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Of  all  the  remains  of  Greek  Kterature,  the  most  remarkable 
is  that  which  passes  under  the  name  of  the  Anthology.  It 
not  only  rfmges  over  a  longer  period  of  time  than  can  be  as* 
signed  to  any  other,  but  it  likewise  exhibits  the  productions  . 
of  poets,  philosophers,  and  hi^orians  in  their  Ughtet  hours ; 
while  the  names  even  of  princes  are  ibund  in  the  companj 
of  those  who  have  left  no  memorials  of  themselves  except 
as  ihe  writers  of  Epigrams. 

For  the  preservation  of  different  portions  of  the  fugitive 
poetry  of  Greece  we  are  indebted  to  a  variety  of  authors,  men- 
tioned by  Jacobs  in  the  Prolegomena  to  his  editicm  of  the 
Anthologia,  p.  34 — 90.  But  the  XM^cipal  labourer  in  "  Mower 
Collecting^ — ^for  such  is  the  literal  meaning  of  Anthology — 
was  Meleager,  a  poet  of  Gadara,  who  flourished  under  the 
last  of  the  Seleucidae,  about  96  b.  c,  and  culled  his  "  Grar- 
lancl"  from  the  works  of  forty-six  of  his  predecessors,  and 
from  not  a  few  of  his  contemporaries ;  to  these  he  added  many 
of  his  own,  which  are  at  least  equal,  if  not  superior,  to  any 
in  the  collection. 

To  Meleager  succeeded  Philip  of  Thessalonica,  who  gave 
a  supplement  of  Epigrams,  oibtained  from  thirteen  writers  not 
mentioned  by  Meleager.  Tlie  next  collector  was  Strato  of  Sar- 
dis,  who  directed  his  chief  attenlicm  to  poems  of  an  amatory 
cast,  and  those  too  not  the  most  delicate.  From  this,  Con- 
stantine  Cephalas^  a  friend  and  relation  of  the  emperor  Leo, 


made  a  selectioii,  containing  one  hundred  and  sixty-five  Epi- 
grams. After  an  interval  of  some  four  or  five  centuries  ap- 
peared the  collection  made  by  Agathias  of  Myrine,  entitled 
"  A  Circle  of  Epigrams ;"  which  he  arranged  under  seven 
different  heads,  instead  of  retaining  the  ^previous  alphabetical 

Of  all  these  collections  not  one  has  come  down  to  us  in  an 
entire  state ;  and  even  the  fragments  still  extant  would  in 
all  probability  have  perished,  had  not  Constantine  Cephalas 
collected  and  united  them.  From  his  MS.  a  transcript  was 
made,  which  is  supposed  to  be  the  one  formerly  at  Heidel- 
bergt  and  which,  after  being  carried  to  Rome  in  1623,  and 
subsequently  to  Paris,  has  at  length  found  its  way  back  to  its 
original  depository. 

The  last  collector  was  Maximus  Planudes,  a  monk  of  Con^ 
stantinople ;  who,  in  the  early  part  of  the  14th  century,  abridged 
the  collection  made  by  Constantine  Cephalas,  and  rejected  the 
indelicate  Epigrams ;  but  as  he  has,  on  the  other  hand,  pre- 
served many  relating  to  matters  of  Art,  which  are  wanting  in 
the  Heidelberg  MS.,  it  is  evident  that  he  had  met  with  a 
transcript  of  the  collection  of  Cephalas  more  complete  than 
-any  known  to  us  at  present. 

Of  the  metrical  translations  into  English,  the  first  was  pub- 
lished by  the  Rev.  Robert  Bland ;  who,  after  trying  his  hand 
at  some  versions  from  the  Minor  Poets  of  Greece,  in  the 
Monthly  Magazine  for  1805  and  1806,  and  shortly  afterwards 
in  Dr.  Aikin's  Athenaeum,  collected  them  into  a  volume,  pub- 
lished in  1806,  under  the  title  of  '^  Translations  £rom  th^ 
Greek  Anthology,  with  Tales  and  Miscellaneous  Poems."  Of 
the  translations  many  were  the  contributions  of  the  author's 
friends,  the  late  J.  H.  Merivale,  the  present  Lord  Denman,  and 
Dr.  Hodgson,  the  Provost  of  Eton  College.  Prefixed  to  the  vo- 


lame  is  a  Preface  on  the  lighter  literature  of  Greece,  and  the 
principal  collectors  of  the  Greek  Anthology ;  from  which  an 
extract  will  enable  the  reader  to  see  what  he  is  to  expect  in 
0uch  a  garden  of  the  poetry  of  Greece. 

"  By  the  word  Epigram,  we  are  not  to  understand  what  is 
generally  meant  by  that  term  in  modem  times ;  but  we  mnst 
bear  in  mind  that  it  is  literally  an  Inscription  merely ;  and 
was  originally  appropriated  to  the  short  sentences  inscribed 
on  offerings  made  to  the  gods  ;  but  was  subsequently  trans- 
ferred to  inscriptions  on  statues,  either  of  gods,  heroes,  or  of 
men  even,  whether  living  or  dead,  and  on  public  buildings ; 
that  it  was  adopted  by  the  lawgiver  to  convey  a  moral  precept, 
and  by  a  lover  to  express  a  tender  sentiment,  but  most  o[ 
fill  by  those  who  wished  to  perpetuate  the  affection  felt  by 
the  living  for  the  dead ;  while  the  chief  merit  of  a  Greek  Epi- 
gram consists  in  the  justness  of  a  single  and  natural  thought 
conveyed  in  harmonious  and  unaffected  language ;  and  that, 
as  very  little  can  be  done  in  the  compass  of  a  few  couplets, 
the  principal  aim  of  each  writer  seems  to  have  been  to  do  that 
little  with  grace." 

As  regards  the  intrinsic  value  of  such  fugitive  pieces.  Bland 
has  correctly  observed  that — "  from  the  histories  and  orations 
and  nobler  poems  which  have  come  down  to  us,  we  know  how 
to  appreciate  the  bold  and  masterly  characters  of  the  heroes 
and  statesmen  of  Greece  and  Italy ;  but  for  private  events  and 
domestic  occurrences,  we  must  look  to  fugitive  pieces ;  for 
there  we  meet  with  records  beneath  the  dignity  of  history,  and 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  characters  and  customs  of  an  otherwise 
litde-known  age  ;  there  we  follow  individuals  into  their  re- 
tirements ;  there  we  are  present  at  their  births,  nuptials,  and 
deaths,  and  become  the  companions  of  their  merriment  at  table, 
imd  the  spectators  at  their  games." 


Of  the  preceding  extract,  the  greater  portion  is  taken  from 
the  second  edition,  published  in  1813,  of  which  there  appeared 
rather  favourable  notices  in  the  Quarterly,  Edinburgh,  and 
Monthly  Reviews,  and  the  Museum  Critieum.  After  the  death 
of  Mr.  Bland  in  1825,  Mr.  Merivale  gave,  in  1833,  a  new 
edition,  freed,  as  he  says,  from  former  blemishes.  But  though 
this  last  edition  is  enriched  with  many  new  translations,  it 
comprises  only  a  portion  of  those  already  contained  in  its  pre- 
decessors ;  and  hence  it  has  been  necessary,  for  the  purposes 
of  the  present  volume,  to  consult  both.  To  these  have  been 
added  those  contributed  by  Mr.  Hay  and  others  to  the  series 
of  articles  written  by  Professor  Wilson,  in  Blackwood's  Maga- 
zine for  1833  and  1835. 

The  last  work  of  the  kind  which  has  appeared  in  England, 
is  the  "  Anthologia  Polyglotta,"  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  H.  Wellesley, 
Principal  of  New  Inn  Hall,  Oxford ;  who,  with  the  assistance 
of  some  University  friends,  has  given  a  very  beautiful  volume 
of  versions  from  the  Greek  Anthology ;  where  fidelity  and 
elegance  are  happily  combined. 

In  addition  to  the  translations  collected  &om  these  sources, 
I  have  availed  myself  of  a  few  to  be  found  elsewhere,  such 
as  the  one  by  T.  C,  in  Notes  and  Queries,  vol.  iii.  p.  92, 
and  one  from  the  Gentleman's  Magazine.  For  -those  marked 
M.  A.  S.  I  am  indebted  to  a  lady,  who  is  desirous  of  concealing 
her  name  ;  and  for  those  with  the  initials  G.  B.  I  am  myself 
responsible.  The  first  96  pages  had  been  already  printed, 
before  the  work  was  put  into  my  hands ;  and  not  only  the 
translation,  but  nearly  all  the  notes  in  that  portion,  are  from 
the  pen  of  an  accomplished  gentleman,  educated  at  West- 
minster School. 

With  regard  to  the  selection  of  the  Epigrams,  the  present 
volume  contains  all  that  are  to  be  found  in  the  Collections 


made  for  the  use  respectively  of  the  schools  at  Westminster 
and  Eton ;  to  which  is  added  the  fuller  selection  edited,  in 
1825,  by  the  Rev.  John  Edwards,  formerly  Head  Master  of 
King  Edward's  School  at  Bury  St.  Edmund's,  and  at  present 
Greek  Professor  in  the  University  of  Durham  ;  and  lastly, 
those  Epigrams  which  have  been  versified  by  Bland  and 
Merivale,  and  are  not  contained  in  the  preceding  Selections. 
Where  the  same  Epigrams  are  repeated  in  one  or  other  of 
the  Collections,  it  has  been  deemed  advisable  to  give  them 
only  in  the  place  where  they  first  occur,  and  to  make  a  refer- 
ence to  them  afterwards. 

G.  B. 

P.  S. — The  Epigram  attributed  to  Person  in  p.  371,  should 
be  thus  read,  as  I  have  been  informed  by  a  learned  friend, 
a  Fellow  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  who  is  in  possession 
of  Person's  autograph  of  it,  sent  originally  to  the  late  Rev.  G. 
A.  Browne,  formerly  a  Fellow  of  the  same  College. 

The  Germans  at  Greek 
Ar^  sadly  to  seek, 
Not  QYe  in  five-score, 
But  ninety-five  more ; 
All — ^save  only  Hermann  ; 
And  Hermann 's  a  German. 



Westaonster  Selection          .        .        .        •  1 — 96 

Eton  Selection 97 — 153 

Edwabds's  Selection 155 — 414 

Miscellaneous  Selections         •        .        .  415 — 506 

Greek  Index,  giving  the  first  word  of  each 

Epigram        .                 •        *        *        .  507—518 




Although  you  may  eat  me  down  to  the  root,  O  he- 
goat,  yet  I  shall  still  bear  fruit,  as  much  as  may  be 
poured*  on  you  when  sacrificed. 

Though  thou  should'st  gnaw  me  to  the  root, 

Destructive  goat,  enough  of  fruit 

I  bear,  betwixt  thy  horns  to  shed. 

When  to  the  altar  thou  art  led.  J.  H.  M. 

Though  to  the  root  thou  eat'st  me,  goat, 
Still  shall  I  yield,  from  fruit  of  vine, 

Enough  to  pour  upon  thy  head. 

When  sacrifice^  of  holy  wine.  G-.  B. 


Jupiter  [said]  to  Love — I  will  take  away  all  thine  ar- 
rows; and  the  winged  one  [answered].  Thunder  away; 
again  thou  wilt  be  a  swan.^ 

^  liriocrTrctffat,  1  aor.  act.  from  iTri-ffTrivdw.  k^v  for  Kai  rjv.  0aycii/,  aor. 
2,  it  has  no  pres.  tense. 

'  As  thou  wert,  when  in  love  with  Leda.    dfeXovfiaif  fut.  mid.  of 


Thy  bow  and  arrows  all,  said  Jove 

To  Love,  away  111  take. 
Thunder  away  ;  again  thou  It  be. 

Said  Love,  a  swan-form*d  rake.  G.  B. 


A  blind  man  carried  on  his  back  a  lame  one,  having 
lent  feet  [and]  borrowed  eyes. 

Said  the  lame  to  the  blind — On  your  back  let  me  rise  : 
So  the  eyes  were  the  legs,  and  the  legs  were  the  eyes. 

W.  F. 
A  blind  man  bore  upon  his  back 

One  lame,  of  nought  afraid  ; 
For  lending  feet  and  borrowing  eyes. 

They  did  each  other  aid.  G.  B. 


A  man  on  finding  money,  left  a  rope ;  but  he,  who  had 
hidden  the  gold,  not  finding  what  he  had  left^  tied  to 
himself  the  rope,  which  he  found. 

A  man  found  a  treasure ;  and,  what 's  very  strange. 
Running  off  with  the  cash,  left  a  rope  in  exchange : 
The  poor  owner,  at  missing  his  gold,  full  of  grief. 
Hung  himself  with  the  rope,  which  was  left  by  the  thief. 

A.  Cb. 


Pheidon,  the  miser,  weeps  not  because  he  dies,  but 
because  he  bought  the  coflSn  for  five  minae.^ 


Possessing  copper  money,  how  is  it  that  you  possess  no- 
thing? Learn  [the  reason] .  Thou  lendest  aU.  Thus  thou 
possessest  nothing  thyself,  in  order  that  another  may 
possess  it. 

*  The  "mina"  of  Athens  has  been  calculated  to  be  about  £3. 
Sa.  English.  But  as  this  seems  an  extravagant  sum  for  a  coffin,  per- 
haps by  ffopbc  here  is  meant,  what  Plato,  in  Epist.  13,  calls  17  oUodofiia 
Tov  rd^ov,  which,  the  philosopher  says,  would  cost,  in  the  case  of  his 
mother,  ten  minse. 



Thou  hast  the  wealth  of  a  rich  man,  but  the  soul  of  a 
poor  one,  O  thou,  rich  for  thine  heirs,  but  poor  for 

A  rich  man's  purse,  a  poor  man's  soul  is  thine, 
Starving  thy  body,  that  thy  heirs  may  dine. 

J.  H.  M. 

A  miser's  mind  thou  hast, 
Thou  hast  a  prince's  pelf; 
Which  makes  thee  wealthy  for  thine  heir, 

A  beggar  to  thyself.  Turbebville. 


O  gold,  the  father  of  flatterers,  the  son  of  pain 
and  care ;  to  have  thee  is  a  fear ;  not  to  have  thee,  a 

Father  of  flatterers,  and  son 

Of  care,  0  gold,  thou  art : 
To  have  thee  fbar  begets ;  but  not 

To  have  thee,  sorrow's  smart.  G.  B. 


The  wealth  of  the  soul  is  the  only  true  wealth :    the 
rest  of  things  have  more  of  pain  than  pleasure. 

The  mind's  wealth  only  is  the  wealth  not  vain ; 

All  else  brings  less  of  pleasure  than  of  pain.       G.  B. 

X.    JULIAN. 

Seek,  robbers,  other  houses,  that  bring  gain ;  for  to 
these  poverty  is  a  sure  guard. 

>  So  Horace — "  Hsec  Ubertos  ut  ebibat  hseres,  Dis  inimice  senex,  cus- 
todis  ?  " 

B  2 


Seek  a  more  profitable  job, 

Good  house-breakers,  elsewhere ; 
These  premises  you  cannot  rob ; 

Want  guards  them  with  such  care.         H.  W. 

More  closely — 
Seek,  robbers,  for  yourselves  a  job, 

That  brings  more  gain,  elsewhere ; 
This  dwelling  you  can  neyer  rob  ; 

'Tis  watch'd  by  want  and  care.  G.  B. 


When  old  age  is  absent,  every  one  prays  for  it ;  but  if 
at  any  time  it  comes,  every  one  finds  fault  with  it.  It 
is  always  better,  when  it  is  a  debt  [not  paid]. 

All  pray  to  reach  old  age ;  when  come,  how  few 
But  blame  it,  as  a  thing  that 's  better  due !       H.  W. 


If  any  one,  having  grown  old,  prays  to  live,  he  is 
worthy  to  live  through  many  decades  of  years. 

When  for  long  life  the  old  man  pours  his  prayers. 
Grant,  Jove,  a  lengthened  life  of  growing  years. 

J.  H.  M. 
He  who,  advanced  in  years,  for  life  still  prays, 
Should,  as  an  old  man,  live  through  lengthen'd  days. 

G.  B. 


Thou  wilt  perhaps  lie  hid  from  men,  when  doing  any 
thing  wrong ;  but  thou  wilt  not  lie  hid  from  the  gods, 
not  even  although  thinking  [to  do  so]. 

Man  may  not  see  thee  do  an  impious  deed  ; 
But  god  thy  very  inmost  thought  can  read. 

J.  W.  B. 
Doing  a  wrong,  thou  may*st  lie  hid  from  man ; 
But  to  lie  hid  from  god  thou  hast  no  plan.       G.  B. 



A  bad  man  is  a  cask  with  holes  in  it,  on  whom  while 
pouring  all  kinds  of  favours,  you  pour  on  what  is  still 

A  cask  with  holes  the  bad  man  call ; 

Exhaust  upon  him  favours  all, 

You  'U  find,  you  pour  with  labour  vain 

On  what  will  nothing  e'er  contain.  G.  B. 


Fortune  led  you  on  unwillingly  ;^  but  [she  did  it]  that 
she  might  show  she  is  able  to  do  all  things  even  in 
your  case. 

Fortune  advanced  you,  merely  to  display. 

In  doing  it  to  you,  her  bouniess  sway.  H.  W. 


In  the  evening,  when  we  are  drinking,  we  are  human 
beings ;  but  when  the  morning  dawns,  we  rise  against 
each  oAer  [as]  wild  beasts. 

At  evening,  when  we  drain  the  bowl. 

We  bear  of  men  the  form  and  soul ; 

But  when  the  morning  dawns,  our  feasts 

Are  changed  to  feuds,  ourselves  to  beasts.  G.  B. 


At  the  Isthmian  and  Pythian  games  Diophon,  the  son 
of  Pbilo,  conquered^  in  leaping,  swiftness  of  foot,  [throw- 
ing] the  quoit  [and]  javelin,  [and]  in  wrestling.^ 

'  To  avoid  the  incongruity  in  the  words  Ovk  lOkXoviraf  Jacobs  suggested 
O^X^  ^^Xowra,  '*  not  loving.* ' 

*  The  phrase,  *I<rO/ita--4vtica  is  adopted  by  Ennius,  **  Vicit  Olym- 

•  These  five  exercises  were  called  vkvraOXov, 



Seven  stars  [are]  wandering  along  the  Olympian 
threshold,  the  Moon,  Jupiter,  Mars,  Venus,  Saturn,  the 
Sun,  Mercury. 


Seven  cities  contend  for  the  root  [origin]  of  Homer, 
Cym^,^  Smyrna,  Chios,  Colophon,  Pylos,  Argos,  Athens. 


I  a  pine  was  broken  to  the  ground  by  the  wind.  Why 
do  you  send  me  on  the  sea  a  branch,  wrecked  before 
the  sailing  ? 


A  fool  bitten  by  many  fleas,  put  out  the  light,  saying 
— You  no  longer  see  me. 


I  neither  wish  nor  pray  to  be  rich ;  but  be  it  my  [lot] 
to  live  upon  a  little,  having  no  evil. 

I  neither  wish  nor  pray  for  wealth ;  my  prayer 

Is  for  a  small  subsistence,  free  from  care.  H.  W. 


Why  do  you  fruitlessly  wash  the  body  of  an  Indian  P 
forbear  your  art ;  you  cannot  bring  the  sun  upon  a  dark 


The  thin  Diophantus,  once  wishing  to  hang  himself, 
laid  hold  of  a  spider's  web,  and  strangled  himself  [with 

»  A.^GelUus,  in  Nolt  Attic,  iii.  11,  has  Xfilpva,  *F6ioc,  KoXo^wv,  So- 
Xa^tv/Io^/Apyoff,  'AOijvai. 

*  Here  is  an  allusion  to  ^sop,  Fab.  75> 

*  You  cannot  make  a  dark  night  bright  with  the  sun. 



Envy  is  a  very  bad  thing,*  but  it  has  some  good  in  it, 
for  it  wastes  away  the  eyes  and  heart  of  the  envious.* 

Envy 's  detestable ;  but  has  this  good ; 
The  envious  waste  their  eye-sight  and  heart's  blood. 

H.  W. 


If  you  Speak  evil  of  me,  when  I  am  away,  you  do  me 
no  injury;  but  if  well,  when  I  am  present,  know,  that 
you  speak  evil  [of  me] . 

You  harm  me  not,  whom  absent  you  traduce ; 
Praise  in  my  presence  is  the  true  abuse. 



Pheidon  neither  drenched  me  nor  touched  me ;  but 
being  ill  of  a  fever,  I  remembered  his  name  and  died.' 

No — blame  not  the  Doctor — no  clyster  he  gave  me, 

He  ne'er  felt  my  pulse,  never  reach'd  my  bed-side ; 
But,  as  I  lay  sick,  my  friends,  anxious  to  save  me, 
In  my  hearing  just  mention'd  his  name — and  I  died. 

J.  H.  M. 
The  physician,  whckill'd  me, 
Neither  bled,  purged,  nor  pill'd  me, 
Nor  counted  my  pulse ;  but  it  comes  to  the  same ; 
In  the  height  of  my  fever  I  died  of  his  name. 

H.  W. 


Khodon  takes  away  leprosy,  and  scrofula,  with  his 

^  Instead  of  jcafcccrroc,  Stobseus  offers  KaKurrov,  which  gires  a  hettex 

*  Compare  Horace,  "  Invidus  alterius  marcescit  rebus  opimis.** 
■  The  mere  recollection  of  his  name  killed  me. 


medicines ;   but  he  takes  away  every  thing  else  without 

With  med'eines  Rhodon  carries  off  the  gout ; 
But  every  other  kind  of  thing  without. 

H.  W. 


The  gods  did  not  breathe  sense  into  a  flute-player ; 
but  with  his  puffing  even  his  sense  flies  ofi'.  ^ 


The  night-owl  sings  a  death-song ;  but  when  Demo- 
phUus  shall  sing,  even  the  night-owl  himself  dies. 

'Tis  said  that  certain  death  awaits 

The  raven's  nightly  cry : 
But  at  the  sound  of  Cymon's  voice, 

The  very  ravens  die.  J.  H.  M 

The  screech-owl  sings ;  death  follows  at  her  cries : 
Demophilus  strikes  up ;  the  screech-owl  dies. 

H.  W. 
More  closely — 

The  screech-owl  sings  its  death-foreboding  cries ; 
When  sings  Demophilus,  the  screech-owl  dies. 

G.  B. 


The  lazy  Marcus  having  been  once  cast  into  prison, 
did,  of  his  own  accord,*  not  wishing  to  come  out,  confess 
to  a  murder. 

Lazy  Mark,  snug  in  prison,  in  prison  to  stay 
Thought  confessing  a  murder  the  easiest  way. 

H.  W. 

*  %a»  is  for  Kai  6.  &fia  is  followed  by  a  dat.,  perhaps  dependent  on 
ffvv :  T(f  is  the  article  to  ^vaq.v  {^vaauv),  the  infinitiye  being  used 
abstractedly  as  a  noun. 

*  cfcovri  is  here  used  adverbially. 



If  you  suppose  that  the  nourishing  a  beard  gives  a 
claim  to  wisdom,  then  a  well-bearded  goat  is  a  skilful 

J£  beards  long  and  bushy  true  wisdom  denote, 
Then  Plato  must  bow  to  a  hairy  he-goat. 

T.  D. 


To  speak  always  well  of  every  body  is  well ;  but  [to 
speak]  shameful  things  is  horrible,  even  though  they  are 
deserving  of  what  we  say.^ 


The  white  cows  to  Marcus  Caesar,  hail !  If  you  con- 
quer, we  are  destroyed.^ 


I  am  the  plant  of  Pallas ;  why,  branches  of  Bacchus, 
do  you  squeeze  me?  Take  away  your  clusters.  I,  a 
virgin,  do  not  get  drunk. 

1  TovTuv  d^ioi  &v  \kyofiev — Hv  is  in  the  case  of  the  antecedent  by  at- 

'  al  Potg  al  XtvKai.  The  adjectire  following  its  noun  requires  the 
article  of  the  noun  to  be  repeated.  This  is  the  emphatic  position  of  the 
adjective.  Its  common  place  is  between  the  article  and  noun ;  as  al  XtvKol 
p6te — dfifite,  MoMc  for  vf^tig, 

■  The  meaning  of  this  epigram,  omitted  by  Jacobs,  is  rather  obscure ; 
unless  it  be  said  that  it  expresses  a  fear  on  Uie  part  of  some  white  cows, 
that  if  Marcus  is  victorious  they  will  be  sacrificed.  But  in  that  case 
XcUptiv  must  be  rendered  "  farewell,**  or  rather  like  the  Latin — "  abi  in 
malam  rem.**  By  "  white  cows,**  in  Greek  XevKai  j^Stg,  a  learned  friend 
has  suggested  that  the  writer  intended  "  elephants,**  which  were  formerly 
found  of  that  colour  in  Africa,  and  were  carried  from  thence  to  Italy  by 
the  Carthaginians,  as  shown  by  Lucretius,  v.  1301 ,  "  Inde  boves  lucas  tur- 
rito  corpore  tetros  Anguimanos  belli  docuerunt  vulnera  Poeni  Sufferre ;  *' 
and  by  Eunius,  quoted  by  Varro  de  L.  L.  vi.,  "  Atque  prius  pariet  locusta 
bovem  lucam.**  For  "bos'*  in  Latin  is  applied  to  any  large  and  little 
known  quadruped. 


I  am  Minerva's  sacred  plant : 

Press  me  no  more,  intruding  vine ; 

Unwreathe  your  wanton  arms ;  avaunt ! 

A  modest  maiden  loves  not  wine.        J.  H.  M. 


May  the  dust  be  light  on  you  under  the  earth,  O 
miserable  Nearchus,  in  order  that  the  dogs  may  the  more 
easily  tear  you  out. 

Light  lie  the  earth,  Nearchus,  on  thy  clay, 
That  so  the  dogs  may  easier  find  their  prey. 

J.  H.  M. 


Hail,  Earth,  mother  of  all !  Upon  -ffisigenes,  who  was 
formerly  not  heavy  upon  thee,  do  thou  now  keep*  thy- 
self without  a  weight. 

Hail,  universal  Mother !  Lightly  rest 

On  that  dead  form. 
Which,  when  with  life  invested,  ne'er  oppress'd 

It«  fellow  worm.  J.  H.  M. 

Earth,  lightly  press  -^sigenes ;  for  he. 

Mother,  ne'er  set  a  heavy  foot  on  thee.        J.  B. 


Hail,  two-fold  race  of  Neocleides!^  of  whom  one  de- 
livered his  country  from  slavery,  the  other  from  folly. 


Should  any  one  hymn  the  tomb  of  Alexander  the 

*  rbv  follows  Ifl-lxotff,  as  if  the  syntax  were  txoig  ffavrrjv  ivl  rbv — One 
would  rather  hare  expected  icarlxotc,  "  keep  down." 
'  'StoKXiidd,  Doric  gen.  1  declension. 


Macedonian^  say*  that  both  continents  are  his  monu- 


Quick  favours  are  the  more  pleasant ;  but  if  a  favour 
comes  slowly,  it  is  altogether  vain,  nor  let  it  be  caUed 
a  favour. 

Swift  favours  charm ;  but  when  too  long  they  stay. 
They  lose  the  name  of  kindness  by  delay.  H. 

The  grace  of  kindness  is  despatch ;  the  same 
Delay  makes  void,  nor  should  it  bear  the  name. 

T.  F. 
Swift  favours  are  the  sweetest ;  but  delay 
Makes  them  all  vain,  and  takes  their  name  away. 

G.  B. 


Every  thing  excessive  is  ill-timed;  since  it  is  an  old 
saying,  that  too  much  even  of  honey  is  gall. 

Ill-timed  is  all  excess.     ^  Tis  known  to  all, 

That  even  too  much  honey  turns  to  gall.  H.  W. 


Six  hours  are  very  sufficient  for  labours ;  bi;t  those,  that 
follow  them,  say,  marked  by  letters,'  to  mortals,  ^*  Live." 



Eome,  thou  queen  of  all,  thy  glory  will  never  perish ; 
for  wingless  Victory  cannot  fly  from  thee. 

'  The  imperatiye  Xkyt  is  strangely  used  after  ijv  riff  tict^y.  It  should 
be  properly  Xiykrio. 

*  This  epigram  is  found  in  Lucian  iii.  p.  676,  ed.  Reitz. 

*  The  letters  alluded  to  as  following  ?-,  which  means  6,  are  Zt  Vt  ^»  <* 
which  combined  make  up  the  word  Zti9i,  "  live." 


Queen  of  the  world,  how  should  thy  glory  die  ? 
While  Victory  stays,  and  hath  no  wings  to  fly. 

G.  F.  D.  T. 
More  closely — 
Rome,  queen  of  all,  thy  glory  ne'er  shall  die ; 
For  wingless  Victory  cannot  from  thee  fly.         G.  B. 

Zosim^,  who  was  formerly  a  slave  in  body  alone,  has 
now  found  freedom,  even  for  her  body. 

This  man  was  once  a  slave  when  alive,  but  now,  having 
died,  he  is  equal  in  power  to  Darius  the  Great. 

Hector  gave  -^'ax  a  sword,  and  Ajax  gave  Hector  a 
belt.     The  gift  of  both  [led]  to  death. 

Hector  to  Ajax  gave  a  sword ;  a  belt 

Ajax  to  Hector ;  gifts  both  fatal  felt.  G.  B. 

Ajax,  after  much  boasting  of  contests,  at  Troy  being 
laid  low,  blames  not  his  enemies,  but  friends.* 


AS  IP   [spoken  by]   HECTOR  INSULTED  BY  THE   GREEKS 

Now  pelt  my  body  after  death,  just  as  the  very 
hares  insult  the  body  of  a  dead  lion. 

Now  after  death  my  body  pelt ;  thus  fares 

The  lion  dead,  insidted  e'en  by  hares.  G.  B. 

^  This  is  attributed  to  Anyt^,  Ep.  21,  where  the  reading  ft  Mavijc  ovroi 
dvijp  :  for  Mdvijc  is  a  name  frequently  given  to  slaves,  as  shown  by  Aris- 
tophanes in  the  Frogs,  995.  Jacobs  quotes  very  appositely  Lucretius  iii. 
1047.     "  Scipiades — Ossa  dedit  terrae,  proinde  ac  famul'  infimus  esset." 

'  Take  Iv  Tpoiy  with  KiifievoSf  i.  e.  buried  in  Trojan  earth. 



A  good  friend  is  a  great  treasure,  HeKodorus,  to  him, 
who  knows  how  to  retain  him  [the  friend]. 

Eutychides  was  a  slow  runner  on  the  course ;  but  he 
ran  to  his  supper,  so  that  one  might  say,  Eutychides  flies. 
Eutychides  was  no  swift  runner :  true ; 
But,  as  a  diner-out,  you  'd  say,  he  flew.      H.  W. 

I  bring  all  to  [Charon]  the  ferry-man ;  for  I  have  left 
nothing  above  the  earth:  but  may  you,  dog  Cerberus, 
fawn  upon  me,  a  dog.^ 

Slow-footed  coimsel  is  much  the  better ;  but  the  quick 
has  repentance  always  drawn  after  [it]. 

O  happy  Pluto,  receive  Democritus ;  so  that,  although 
reigning  over  those  ever  without  a  smile,  you  may  obtain 
one  even  laughing. 

Pluto,  receive  the  sage,  whose  ghost 

Is  wafted  to  thy  gloomy  shore  ; 
One  laughing  spirit  seeks  the  coast, 

Where  never  smile  was  seen  before.        J.  H.  M. 
Great  Pluto,  greet  Democritus,  and  have 
One  merry  soul,  thou  monarch  of  the  grave.     H.  W. 


O  stranger,  tell  the  Lacedaemonians  that  here  we  lie, 

obedient  to  their  words. 

*  Diogenes  is  feigned  to  call  himself,  when  dead,  by  the  name  of  dog, 
which  was  applied  to  him  when  living. 


Go,  tell  the  Spartans,  thou  who  passest  by, 

That  here,  obedient  to  their  laws,  we  lie.      W.  L.  B. 

Stranger,  to  Lacedaemon  go,  and  tell. 

That  here,  obedient  to  her  words,  we  fell.        G.  B. 

LV.    ON  THE  SAME. 

We  lie  here,  having  defended  with  our  lives  all  Greece, 
when  standing  on  a  sharp  point  [i.  e.  a  dangerous 

When  Greece  upon  the  point  of  danger  stood. 

We  fell,  defending  her  with  our  life-blood.         G.  B. 


Brave  in  war  [was]  Timocritus,  of  whom  this  [is]  the 
tomb :  Mars  spares  not  the  brave,  but  the  cowards. 

Timocritus  adorns  this  humble  grave : 

Mars  spares  the  coward,  but  destroys  the  brave. 

J.  H.  M. 

This  is  of  bold  Timocritus  the  grave ; 

Mars  loves  to  spare  the  coward,  not  the  brave.  G.  B. 


Here  Saon,  of  Acanthus,  the  son  of  Dichon,  lies  in 
a  sacred  sleep ;  say  not  that  the  men  of  virtue  die. 

Here  Saon,  wrapp'd  in  holy  slumber,  lies: 
Thou  canst  not  say,  the  just  and  virtuous  dies. 

J.  H.  M. 

Here  Dicon's  son,  Acanthian  Saon,  lies 

In  holy  sleep :  say  not,  the  good  man  dies.      H.  W. 



A  father  [raised]  this  monument  to  his  son ;  the  con- 
trary was  just  [natural] :  but  Envy  *  was  quicker  than 


Ye  orators,  speak  [now].  I,  this  tomb,  keep  closed 
in  silence  the  lips  of  the  great  Amphilochus. 


An  old  woman  has  found  her  death.  She  ought  to 
have  lived  ten  thousand  revolutions  [of  the  sun].  We 
cannot  have  a  surfeit  of  what  is  good. 


This  tomb  has  within  it  no  body ;  this  body  has  with- 
out it  no  tomb ;  but  itself  is  its  own  body  and  tomb. 

Lo !  corpseless  tomb,  and  tombless  corpse !  strange  doom, 
She  to  herself  at  once  is  corpse  and  tomb.  G.  S. 


Either  the  god  came  from  heaven  to  earth,  to  show 
his  form  [to  thee],  or  thou,  Phidias,  didst  go  to  heaven 
to  see  the  god. 


O  herdsman,  pasture  [your]  herd  farther  off,  lest  you 
drive,  together  with  [your]  oxen,  the  heifer  of  Myro, 
as  if  it  were  alive. 


Why,  O  calf,  do  you  come  near  to  my  sides  ?  why  do 
you  low  ?    Art  has  not  placed  milk  in  my  udder. 

*  By  996vog  is  meant  here,  as  by  tfkfutnc  in  Ep.  82,  the  deity  who 
punished  mortals  when  they  were  too  fortunate ;  and  so  probably  the 
fiEither  of  the  deceased  had  been. 



The  poor  Aristides  reckoned  as  much  wealth  his  [one] 
sheep,  as  a  flock,  and  his  [one]  cow,  as  a  herd. 


It  (were)  easier  to  find  white  crows  and  winged  tor- 
toises, than  an  orator  of  repute  in  Cappadocia.^ 


This  too  [is  the  saying]  of  Phocylides.  The  Lerians 
are  bad,  not  this  one  [bad],  and  the  other  not  [so],  but 
all,  except  Procles ;  and  Procles  is  a  Lerian. 


From  a  living  being  the  gods  made  me  a  stone  *,  [but] 
from  a  stone  Praxiteles  made  me  again  a  living  being. 

The  gods  to  stone  transform'd  me ;  but  again 

I  from  Praxiteles  new  life  obtain.  Addison. 


Demosthenis  has  a.false  mirror ;  -for  if  she  looked  at  a 
true  one,  she  would  be  unwilling  to  look  at  it  at  all. 

Though  to  your  face  that  mirror  lies, 

'Tis  just  the  gl&,ss  for  you, 
Demosthenis ;  you'd  shut  your  eyes, 

If  it  reflected  true.  H.  W. 


Some  say,  Nicylla,  that  thou  dyest  thy  hair,  which 
thou  boughtest  most  black  at  the  market.^ 
Some  say,  Nicylla,  that  you  dye  your  hair. 
Those  jet-black  locks.     You  bought  them  at  a  fair.  E.  S. 

'  liyv,  poetic  fonn  of  ijv. 

2  kvpita  imperf.  med.  contracted  from  iwpiatro,  l^rpfao,  ktrpiw. 



Nemesis  forewarns  [us]  with  a  cubit  ^  and  a  rein, 
not  to  do  any  thing  without  measure,  nor  to  speak  un- 
bridled [words]. 

Diodorus  put  to  sleep  this  Satyr,  not  carved  it     If 
you  prick  him,  you  will  arouse  him ;  the  silver  is  having 
a  nap. 


The  race  of  Cecrops  placed  this  house*  for  Jupiter,  so 
that,  on  departing  from  Olympus  to  the  earth,  he  might 
have  another  Olympus. 

Who  has  carved  you  not  speaking  in  the  form  of  a 
speaker  ?    You  are  silent ;   you  do  not  speak ;  nothing 
is  more  like. 

l:^xv.  antipater. 

,  Wonder  seized  upon  Mnemosyn^,  when  she  heard  the 
honey-voiced  Sappho,  whether*  mortals  have  a  tenth 

Amazement  seized'  Mnemosyne 

At  Sappho's  honey'd  song. 
What !  does  a  tenth  Muse  then,  cried  she, 

To  mortal  men  bd<»ig  ?     .  H.  W. 

*  Spanheim  on  Callimachos,  T.  ii.  p.  473,  says  that  by  ir^x^c  was 
meant  a  rule,  the  length  of  a  cubit,  which  Nemesis  is  seen  in  gems  to 
carry  in  her  left  hand. 

?  BSfiOi  has  rather  the  restricted  idea  of  home,  than  the  more  general 
one  of  house.    'A9rivy<riy  Ionic  for  'AOijvaig. 

*  After  verbs  or  phrases  expressive  of  wonder,  the  particle  employed 
is  c(  rather  than  fxri. 

*  atpkuty  2  aor.  «IXov,  here  without  the  augment  aXe.  JAoiaav,  iBoIic 
for  Movffwv.  Observe  the  Doric  use  of  o  for  rj  in  Mvafiovifvav,  rdc, 



The  painter  [painted]  Pythagoras^  himself,  whom  you 
would  have  seen  with  a  voice,  if  Pythagoras  had  wished 
to  speak.^ 


The  painter  [has  painted]  Theodota  herself:  would  that 
he  had  failed  in  his  art,  and  had  given  forgetfulness  to 
us,  mourning  [for  her]. 

The  painter  makes  Theodote  live  again  u 
Would  he  had  fail'd,  nor  thus  recalled  our  pain. 

H.  W, 


Diodorus  having  carved  the  image  of  Menodotus,  set 
it  up,  very  like  every  body,  except  Menodotus. 

When  Diodorus  sketeh*d  your  phiz, 

Menodotus,  'tis  true    • 
A  likeness  was  produced ;  for  'tis 

Like  every  one — ^but  you.  H.  W. 


You  have  an  intellect  lame,  like  [your]  foot;  for  truly 
your  nature  outside  has  the  image  of  what  is  within.' 

If  the  outward  form 's  akin 

To  the  nature  that 's  within, 

By  your  limping  foot  we  learn 

Your  intellect 's  a  lame  concern.         H.  W. 

*  UvOayoptiQt  Ionic  for  oq, 

'  This  alludes  to  the  silence  which  Pythagoras  imposed  upon  himself 
and  his  disciples. 

«  Kal  ydp  is  the  same  as  the  Latin  "  etenim,"  "  for."  But  frequently 
ydp  indicates  the  omission  of  some  words,  to  which  the  ydp  is  to  be  re- 



Hope,  and  thou,  O  Fortune,  a  lone  farewell ;  I  have 
found  the  port.  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  you;  play 
with  those  after  me.* 

I  've  found  a  port ;  Fortune  and  Hope,  adieu. 
Mock  others  now ;  for  I  have  done  with  you. 


Fortune  and  Hope,  farewell,  I  Ve  found  a  port. 
With  you  I  've  nought  to  do :  with  others  sport. 

G.  B. 


If  I  am  poor,  why  shoidd  I  suffer?^  why  do  you  hate 
me,  who  injure  you  not  ?  This  is  the  slip  of  Fortune, 
not  the  impropriety  of  my  conduct.^ 


Eunus  made  [sculptured]  Hope,  and  Nemesis,'  near 
an  altar ;  the  former,  that  thou  mayest  have  hope ;  the 
latter,  that  thou  mayest  not  [hope]  too  much. 


Foxqr  are  the  Graces,  two  the  Paphian  goddesses,  and 
ten  the  Muses.  Dercylis  is  among  them  all,  a  Muse,  a 
Venus,  a  Grace. 


The  rose  blooms  a  short  time ;  but  if  it  has  gone  off,*  on 
seeking  it  you  will  find,  not  a  rose,  but  a  thorn. 

*  oifdsv  [IffTiv]  kfiol  Kai  vftXv. 

?  ri  Tde<a ;  why  should  I  suffer  ?    Todi,  this,  i.  e.  my  poverty. 

•  NcfiOrtc,  Envy. 

^  A  flower  is  said,  in  English,  "  to  go  off,"  as  in  Greek,  wapepvioBaif 
•*  to  pass  by."  Jacobs  however  understands  xpovoc  before  irapk\9y* 

c  2 



If  beauty*  grows  old,  share  it,  before  it  passes  away; 
but  if  it  endures,  why  do  you  fear  to  give  me  what  still 

If  age  thy  beauty  must  impair. 

The  fleeting  charm  impart ; 
If  it  endure,  why  fear  to  share 

What  never  can  depart  ?  H.  W. 


The  garland  around  the  head  of  Heliodora  withers ;  but 
she  herself  shines  forth,  the  garland  of  the  garland. 


Either,  Cupid,  canceP  the  power  to  love,  or  add  that  to 
be  loved ;  so  that  thou  mayest  either  undo  my  passion, 
or  mingle  it.' 


Beauty,  without  graces,  delights  only ;  it  does  not  re- 
tain, like  a  bait,  floating,  without  a  hooK. 

Beauty  without  the  Graces  is  a  bait 

Without  its  hook,  and  fails  to  captivate.     H.  W. 


By  your  narration.  Homer,  you  have  put  upon  im- 
sacked  cities  to  envy  the  city  which  had  been  burnt. 

Slight  was  the  burial  of  the  hero  Priam,  not  because 

*  T6  KoXbv  for  c^XXoc,  beauty. 

*  irtpiypd^u),  "  circumscribo/*  here,  "  forbid." 

'  The  poet  wishes  either  to  be  freed  from  love,  or  for  his  love  to  be 
mixed  with  the  lote  of  the  party  loved. 


he  deserved  such  [a  burial],  but  [because]  we  were  en- 
tombed by  the  hands  of  [our]  enemies.* 

See  Priam's  lowly  tomb  !  Not  such  a  grave, 
As  he  deserved,  but,  as  his  foe-men  gave. 

J.  W.  B. 


Ulysses  has  brought  you,  Penelope,  this  cloak  and 
mantle,  afker  accomplishing*  his  long  journey. 


Nature  discovered,  with  difficulty  discovered  [Homer] ; 
and  after  producing  him  ceased  from  her  labour-pains, 
having  directed  all  her  vigour^  to  [the  production  of] 
one  Homer  alone. 


Mortal  are  the  possessions  of  mortals;  and  all  things 
pass  away  from  us.  But  if  not,  still  we  pass  away  from 


All  life  is  a  scene  and  a  sport.  Either  learn  to  play, 
laying  aside  your  serious  pursuits,*  or  bear  up  against 

This  hfe  a  theatre  we  well  may  call. 

Where  every  actor  must  perform  with  art, 

Or  laugh  it  through,  and  make  a  farce  of  all, 

Or  learn  to  bear  with  grace  his  tragic  part.        Bl. 

>  roiov  (rafov),  gen.  after  a^coc*  lxa»wv/i€0o  from  x'^^'*^/***  lieap 
up,  make  a  mound  (especially  oyer  a  grave). 

'  iKavvffag,  after  completing.  The  participle  of  the  aorist  is  more 
properly  translated  by  a  preposition  and  the  English  participial  noun,  or 
gerund,  than  by  the  perfect  definite  preceded  by  "  having***  aTpavoQ,  a 
privative,  and  rplTrw,  turn,  a  path,  from  which  we  turn  not. 

'  fuvoivri,  eager  desire,  earnest  purpose. 

♦  Tiljv  virovSiiv,  your  earnestness. 


Since  life  is  a  play,  and  we  actors  at  best, 

Either  suffer  liie  men,  or  give  in  to  the  jest.     W.  F. 


Herodotus  received  [as  a  host]  the  Muses ;  and  then 
each,  in  return  for  his  hospitality,  gave  him  one  book.^ 

The  Muses  to  Herodotus  one  day 
Came,  nine  of  them,  and  dined ; 

And  in  return,  their  host  to  pay. 

Each  left  a  book  behind.  G.  F.  D.  T. 


Memory  and  Oblivion,  all  hail !  the  former,  for  good 
deeds ;  the  latter,  for  evil.* 

All  hail,  Remembrance  and  Forgetfulness ! 

Trace,  Memory,  trace  whate'er  is  sweet  or  kind : 
When  friends  forsake  us  or  misfortunes  press, 

Oblivion,  rase  the  record  from  our  mind.  Bl. 


To  the  prosperous  the  whole  of  life  is  short ;  but  to  the 
unfortunate,  one  night  is  an  endless  time.' 

In  pleasure's  bowers  whole  lives  unheeded  fly ; 

But  to  the  wretch  one  night  *s  eternity.  Bl. 

Short  to  the  happy  life's  whole  span  appears ; 

But  to  the  wretch  one  night  is  endless  years.    G.  Bo. 

To  those  who  are  well  to  do,  all  life  is  brief; 

One  night 's  an  endless  time  to  those  in  grief.     G.  B* 

*  vTrtBi^arOf  received  (beneath  his  roof),  entertained.    The  nine  books 
of  Herodotus  are  called  after  the  nine  Muses. 

'  XevyaXkoQ,  (frornXvyp^c^)  evil,  grief-producing:  hence  perhaps  lugere 
in  Latin. 

*  cu  irp&TTta  has  an  intransitive  sense ;  as  in  our  own  English  ex 
pression,  "  to  be  domg  weU"  that  is,  **  to  be  prosperous." 



A  certain  Theodorus  is  rejoicing  since  I  am  dead. 
Another  shall  rejoice  over  him.  We  are  all  in  debt  to 


Give,  O  king  Jove,  good  things  to  us  both  praying 
and  not  praying ;  but  keep  from  us  evil  things,  even 
when  praying  [for  them].^ 

Pray  we  or  not,  king  Jove,  do  thou  supply 
All  good ;  all  harm  e'en  to  our  prayers  deny. 

H.  W. 


To  feed  many  bodies  [i.  e.  persons]  and  to  erect  many 
houses  is  the  readiest  way  to  poverty. 

The  broad  highway  to  poverty  and  need 
Is,  much  to  build  and  many  mouths  to  feed. 

Lexdios  Uthalmus. 

1  XcdpUt  has  here  a  past  s^nse.    60e(X^/ieOa,  we  are  due,  doomed. 
*   A/iUi,  Doric  for  ly/iii/.    direpviCM,  keep  off,  &{y)iVKTOQ,  prayerless, 
where  a  is  ''not,"  the  v  being  merely  euphonic. 

BOOK  11. 


There  are  foiit  games  throughout  Hellas,  four  sacred 
^ames],  two  [sacred]  to  mortdfs,  and  two  to  immortals^ 
Jupiter,  Apollo,*  Palaemon,  Archemorus:  their  prizes 
[are]  [a  wreath  of]  wild  olive,  apples,  parsley,  pine. 


I  am  a  wrestler  neither  from  Messene  nor  [from] 
Argos:  Sparta,  renowned  Sparta,  [is]  my  father-land. 
They  [the  people  of  Messene  and  Argos  are]  superior 
in  skill :  I,  as  befits  the  sons  of  Lacedasmon,  am  superior 
in  force.* 

No  Messenian  wrestler,  no  Argive  is  here  j 

Of  Sparta,  famed  Sparta  's  my  birth : 
Let  them  brag  of  their  skill ;  by  my  strength  'twill  appear 

How  the  l^artan  evinces  his  worth.  H.  W. 


A  mother  killed  [her]  son,  who  had  left  the  battle  after 
the  death  of  his  companions ;  denying  the  remembrance 
of  the  pains  [of  childbirth]  :  for  Lacedaemon  judges  of 
genuine  blood  by  the  valour  of  warriors,  not  by  the  birth 
of  babes.' 

A  Spartan,  his  companion  slain. 
Alone  from  battle  fled ; 

*  Aijrot^ao— "  the  son  of  Latona." 

*  rexvacvrcc  for  -iiivTiQ.  The  verb  to  be  supplied  is  Kpark-ovai,  ia-l- 
oucc,  from  liri  and  cIjcw,  in  2nd  perf.  loiKa, 

*  dvyvauivfij  1  aor.  m.  of  dvaivofiai.  Observe  the  diphthong  ai  be- 
comes m  tne  root  of  the  aor.  1 ,  17 ;  and  that  y  is  not  generally  thought  to 
be  the  true  formation ;  since  from  ^aiv-u  the  aor.  1  is  l-^i}v-a,  not  i-^yv-a. 

we;stminsteb  selection.  25 

^s  mother,  kindling  with  disdain 

That  she  had  borne  him,  struck  him  dead ; 
For  courage,  and  not  birth  alone. 
At  Sparta  testifies  a  son.  W.  C. 

A  Spartan  mother  slew  her  son, 

Who  from  the  battle-field  had  run. 

Where  his  companions  had  been  slain ; 

For  she  of  child-birth  all  the  pain 

Disown'd ;  since  Sparta  genuine  birth 

Sees  not  in  blood,  but  vfdour's  worth.  G.  B. 


The  Spartan  Mars  did  with  three  htindred  spears 
stand  up  against  the  sailer  over  the  continent  [andj  the 
walker  over  the  seas,  through  the  ways  of  the  earth  and 
of  the  sea  being  changed.^  Blush,  ye  mountains  and 

Him,  who  reversed  the  laws  great  Nature  gave, 
Sail'd  o'er  the  continent  and  walk'd  the  wave. 
Three  hundred  spears  from  Sparta's  iron  plain 
Have  stopp'd.  Oh !  blush,  ye  mountains  and  thou  main. 

J.  H.  M. 
He,  who  the  paths  of  land  and  sea  had  changed. 
O'er  continents  sail'd,  and  over  seas  foot-ranged. 
Was  check'd  by  spears  three  hundred,  that  dUid  rush 
From  Sparta.     Seas  with  shame  and  mountains  blush. 



I,  whom  war  through  fear  did  not  destroy,  am  now 
crushed  by  sickness,  and  wholly  wasted  away  in  a  private 

^  The  dative  or  ablative,  thus  used  absolutely,  is  rather  a  Latin  than 
a  Greek  form  of  syntax,  which  would  require  the  genitive. 


warfare.  But  pass,  O  dagger,  through  my  breast :  for 
like  a  brave  man  will  I  die,  driving  away  disease,  as  [I 
did]  war. 

That  soul,  which  vanquish'd  war  could  never  win, 

Now  yields  reluctant  to  a  foe  within. 

Oh  seize  the  sword !  grant  me  a  soldier*s  due  : 

And  thus  disease  shall  own  my  triumph  too.    J.  H.  M- 


I,  the  strbngest  of  beasts  and  men,*  having  walked 
upon  this  tomb  of  stone,  which  I  am  now  guarding ; 
but,  unless  a  lion  had  possessed  my  spirit  as  well  as 
my  name,  I  should  not  have  placed  my  feet  upon  this 


From  the  fire  of  Troy,  the  hero  iEneas  rescued,  in 
the  midst'  of  spears,  his  father,  a  pious  burden  for  a  son ; 
and  he  shouted  to  the  Greeks — "  Touch  him  not ;  the 
old  man  is  a  trifling  gain  for  Mars,*  but  a  great  [gain]  to 
me,  who  carry  [him]." 

Midst  flames  of  Troy,  and  many  a  hostile  spear, 

^neas  bore  a  burden,  oh !  how  dear ! 

His  father.     Hurt  him  not,  ye  Greeks,  he  cries ; 

Mars  scorns  an  old  man,  though  my  dearest  prize,  T.  F. 

*  ^varuiv,  Doric  forij. 

'  From  the  literal  translation  of  this  epigram,  it  is  evident  that  there  is 
something  wrong  in  the  Greek.  According  to  Jacobs,  the  first  and  second 
distich  are  separated  from  each  other  by  intervening  matter  in  the  Vatican 
MS.,  and  he  says  it  is  uncertain  whether  the  epitaph  was  written  upon 
one  Leon,  or  Leonidas,  the  celebrated  Spartan  leader. 

*  uBffov,  adj.  to  rrarkpa. 

*  Apj;,  ace.  for'Apta. 



Why,  Eagle,  hast  thou  come  above  a  tomb?  or  art 
thou  gazing^  imon  the  starry  home,  [belonging  to]  whom  * 
of  the  gods?  1  am  the  form  of  the  soul  of  Plato,  flying 
away  to  Ol3rmpus ;  but  his  earth-bom  body  the  soil  of 
Attica  possesses. 

Why,  eagle,  o'er  the  tomb  thus  hovering  fly  ? 
Or  on  what  starry  dwelling  in  the  sky 

Is  thy  far  vision  stay'd  ? 
The  imaged  soul  of  Plato,  to  Jove's  throne 
I  soar  aloft ;  his  earth-bom  limbs  alone 

In  Attic  earth  are  laid.  T.  P.  R. 


A  boy  was  crowning  [with  flowers]  a  small  stone, 
the  [monumental]  pillar  of  [his]  step-mother,  thinking 
that  her  temper  had  been  changed.'  But  it  [tfie  pillar] 
falling,  killed  the  child,  while  leaning  on  the  grave. 
Shun,  ye  children,  even  the  grave  of  a  step-mother. 



Seated  on  an  ethereal  chariot,*  thou  art  come  to  the 
desire  of  a  chariot  adorned  with  silver.*  Infinite  dis- 
grace !    Thou  wast  greater  when  lower ;  but  in  ascend- 

*  riirrc,  for  ri  ttoti,  why  ?  with  emphasis  expressed  by  irort .  A'tro- 
cKonkiov,  **  art  thou  looking,"  participle  used  for  tiie  verb.  Otiov,  genitive 
after  the  partitive  tivoq, 

*  Jacobs  would  supply  tav  before  nvoc, 

.    '  fiffTpvifie,  Ionic  for  -ag,  ijXKaxBai,  had  been  changed,  or  put  off,  perf. 
pass.,  from  AiXdcffid* 

*  avrv^  is  properly  the  circumference  of  a  wheel. 

»  The  writer  compares  here  the  chariot  of  heaven,  in  which  the  philo* 
gopher  is  supposed  to  ride,  with  that  of  earth,  in  which  the  prefect  of  a 
city  was  seated,  like  the  lord  mayor  of  London  in  his  gilded  state- 
carriage.  Jacobs  quotes  very  appositely  Seneca,  Ep.  68,  "  Sapiens — 
relicto  imo  angulo  in  majora  atque  ampliora  transit,  et  ccelo  impositus 
inteliigit,  cum  sellam  aut  tribunal  adscenderat,  quam  humili  locosederat." 


ing  thou  hast  become  far  inferior.     Come,  ascend  by 
descending ;  for  now  thou  hast  descended  by  ascending. 


I  feed  this  wolf  from  my  own  teats,  not  willingly ; 
but  the  folly  of  a  goat-herd  compels  me.  When  he  is 
grown  up  ^  under  me,  he  will  in  return  become  a  fierce 
beast  against  me.     Kindness  cannot  change  nature. 

A  wolf,  reluctant,  with  my  milk  I  feed, 

Obedient  to  a  cruel  master's  will ; 
By  him  I  nourish'd  soon  condemn'd  to  bleed. 

For  stubborn  nature  will  be  nature  still. 



Silent  in  tongue  do  thou  pass  by  the  talkative  Echo  ; 
and  yet  not  talkative,  if  answering  should  I  hear  aught. 
For  I  will  send  back 'to  thee  the  word,  which  thou 
speakest ;  but  if  thou  art  silent,  I  will  be  silent.  What 
tongue  is  more  just  than  I  ? 

To  Echo,  mute  or  talkative. 
Address  good  words,  or  she  can  give 

Eetorts  to  those  who  dare  her : 
If  you  provoke  me,  I  reply ; 
If  you  are  silent,  so  am  I ; 

Can  any  tongue  speak  fairer  ?  H.  W. 

I,  Myrtilus,  with  one  shield  escaped  two  dangers ; 
one,  by  fighting  bravely ;  and  another,  by  swimming  on 
it  [the  shield]  when  a  gale  had  sunk  the  keel  of  [my]  ship. 
Having  been  saved,  I  have  kept  [my]  shield,  that  has  been 
tried  in  wave  and  war. 

'  alKv^HQt  part.  1  aor.  pass,  of  aiKavto, 

^  €if^i]fioet  sweet-sounding,  or  [as  here]  silent.  wixptifitipeOf  for  ov,  the 
common  form,  the  first  form  is  in  t<To,  In  this  epigram  there  is  a  mix- 
ture of  Ionic  and  Doric  forms. 



I  was  young,  but  poor ;  now,  when  old,  I  am  rich.  O 
alone  of  all  men,  miserable  in  both^  [cases],  who,  when  I 
could  use  [wealth],  then  had  nothing ;  but  now,  when  I 
cannot  use  it,  I  have  it. 

Young,  I  was  poor ;  when  old,  I  wealthy  grew ; 

Unblest,  alas,  in  want  and  plenty  too. 

When  I  could  all  enjoy,  fate  nothing  gave ; 

Now  I  can  nought  enjoy,  I  all  things  have.         G.  S. 

Young,  I  was  poor ;  old,  I  *m  of  wealth  possessed ; 
Alone  of  all  men  I  'm  in  both  unblest. 
Means,  when  I  could  enjoy  them,  were  denied ; 
But  now,  when  I  can  not,  they  are  supplied. 



I,  once  the  chief  city  of  the  air-[passing]  ^  Perseus,  [I] 
who  nurtured  a  star  ^  baleful  to  the  sons  of  Ilium,  am 
given  up  to  be  the  haunt  of  solitary  herds  of  goats, 
paying  late  to  the  Manes  of  Priam  a  just  expiation. 

Nature,  loving  the  laws  of  friendship,  discovered  the 
instruments  for  the  meeting  of  those  absent  from  home, 
the  pen,  paper,  ink,  characters  made  by  the  hand,  tokens 
from  afar  *  of  the  troubled  mind. 

Loving  the  bonds  of  friendship,  nature  found 
The  means  of  meeting  upon  distant  ground. 
Reed,  ink,  and  letters  traced  upon  a  leaf, 
The  symbols  of  an  absent  soul  in  grief.  G.  B. 

*  dfKltoripoiQ^  both  m  youth  and  age. 

'  Jacobs  well  explains  aiOepioio  by  the  description  in  Ovid's  Met.  iv. 
B15,  "  Aera  carpebat  tenerum  stridentibiis  alis." 

^  With  the  expression  TriKpbv  'iXidSaig  dtrrkpa,  may  be  compared 
IxBpoXq  aarpov  utg  \dfjL\pHv  in  Soph.  El.  66. 

*  Whenever  an  adverb  is  thus  taken  with  a  noun,  the  participle  of  ex- 
istence, Av,  is  understood,  as  here,  <rv/i/3o\o  Tri\69ev  ovra. 



I  was  once  the  field  of  Achsemenides,  but  [am]  now  of 
Menippus;  and  again  I  shall  pass  from  another  to 
another.^  For  that  person  once  thought  he  possessed 
me ;  and  agaux  this  one  thinks  [so] ;  but  I  am  entirely, 
the  property  of  no  one  except  Fortune. 


The  slight  shelter  of  a  cloak  is  sufficient  for  me.  I 
will  not,  when  feeding  upon  the  flowers  of  the  Muses, 
be  a  slave  of  tables.  I  hate  senseless  wealth,  the  nurse 
of  flatterers;  nor  will  I  stand  by  the  eye-brow  [of 
power].     I  know  the  freedom  of  a  frugal  feast. 


Many  rich  men  are  wicked,  but  [many]  poor,  good. 
But  we  will  not  exchange  with  them  wealth  for  virtue ; 
for  this  is  indeed  always  stable ;  but  money  sometimes 
one  mortal  possesses  and  sometimes  another. 


After  painting  Deucalion  and  Phaethon,  you  ask,  Me- 
nestratus,  what  each  is  worth.  We  wiU  value  them  at 
their  individual  worth ;  Phaethon  of  fire,  and  Deucalion 
of  water. 

You  paint  Deucalion  and  Phaethon, 

And  ask  what  price  for  each  you  should  require. 

I  '11  tell  you  what  they  *re  worth  before  you  *re  done ; 
One  deserves  water,  and  the  other  fire.         J.  H.  M. 


Alexis,  a  physician,  gave  a  clyster  to  five  [patients]  ^ 

*  So  Shakspeare  says  of  money — 

"  'Tis  mine ;  'twas  his ;  and  has  been  the  slave 
Of  thousands." 


five  he  purged ;  five  he  visited  in  bad  health ;  on  five 
again  he  put  an  ointment.  And  for  [them]  all  there 
has  been  one  nighty  one  medicine^  one  coffin-maker^ 
one  grave^  one  Hades^  one  lamentation.^ 


The  Nymphs  washed  Bacchus,  just  rolling  over  the 
ashes,^  when  the  child  had  leapt  from  the  fire.  Hence, 
Bromius^  [Bacchus]  is  a  fiiend  together  with  the 
Nymphs ;  but  if  you  prevent  [them]  from  being  mixed 
together  you  will  receive  the  fire  yet  burning.* 

Great  Bacchus,  bom  in  thunder  and  in  fire, 
By  native  heat  asserts  his  dreadful  sire. 
Nourished  near  shady  hills  and  cooling  streams. 
He  to  the  Nymphs  avows  his  amorous  fiames. 
To  all  the  brethren  at  the  Bell  and  Vine, 
The  moral  says,  "  Mix  water  with  your  wine." 


When  infant  Bacchus  from  encircling  flame 
Leap'd  into  life,  the  Nymphs  in  pity  came ; 
Caught  him  amidst  the  ashes  as  he  fell. 
And  bathed  with  water  from  their  sacred  well. 
Their  union  hence ;  and  whoso  would  decline 
To  mix  his  bowl,  may  swallow  fire  for  wine. 

J.  H.  M. 


Thou  wast  always  a  brute,  Polycritus ;  but  now,  when 
thou  hast  been  drinking,  thou  hast  become  suddenly 

*  KoverbQ  means  "  plangor,"  beating  of  the  breast,  from  KSirrHv,  to 

«  At  the  birth  of  Bacchus  Semele  was  burnt  by  fire  from  heaven. 
Hence  the  allusion  to  her  ashes,  expressed  by  rl0pi}. 

'  Bromius,  from  Ppsfna,  to  make  a  noise  with  the  mouth.  The  epigram 
alludes  to  the  burning  of  Semele,  and  also  to  the  ancient  practice  of 
mingling  water  with  wine.    The  Nymphs  preside  over  springs. 

*  "  Unless  wine  is  mixed  with  water,  it  bums  like  fire,"  as  Jacobs  re- 
marks; who  quotes  very  appositely,  from  Eratosthenes  in  Atheneeus, 
Olvoc  TOi  fTVpi  190V  tx^i  fuvog. 


some  evil  tliiDg,  raging-mad.  You  seem  to  me  to  have 
been  always  bsd.  Wine  proves  the  temper.  Thou  hast 
not  become  bad^  but  hast  been  shown  [to  be  so]. 


The  life  of  voice-dividing  [men],  is  the  sport  of  For- 
tune, pitiable,  wandering,  tossed  between  wealth  and 
poverty.  Some  she  brings  down  and  raises  them  again ; 
and  [like  a  ball]  she  brings  down  others  from  the  clouds 
to  Hades. 

This  wretched  life  of  ours  is  Fortune's  ball ; 

Twixt  wealth  and  poverty  she  bandies  all. 

These,  cast  to  earth,  up  to  the  skies  rebound ; 

Those,  toss'd  to  heaven,  come  tumbling  to  the  ground. 

G.  S. 


Not  to  me  is  the  setting  of  the  Pleiads  fearful,  nor  the 
wave  howling  around  the  rugged  rock,  nor  when  the 
wide  heaven  is  lightning,  do  I  fear,  as  [I  do]  a  bad  man, 
and  water-drinkers,  who  remember  what  is  spoken.^ 


I  am  a  true  friend,  and  know  my  friend,  how  dear 
[he  is].  But  from  all  thoroughly  bad  men  I  turn  away. 
I  flatter  no  one  in  hypocrisy;  but  those,  whom  I  value, 
I  love  from  the  beginning  to  the  end. 


All  sajT  that  you  are  rich ;  but  I  say  that  you  are  poor ; 
for  use  IS  the  witness  [proof]  of  wealth,  Apollophanes. 
If  you  partake  of  your  property,  it  is  yours ;  but  if  you 
keep  it  for  your  heirs,  irom  that  moment  it  is  the  pro- 
perty of  others. 

*  Antipater,  says  Jacobs,  alludes  to  the  well-known  saying,  Mi9i*> 
ftvijfiova  (rvftirSrav, 


They  call  thee  rich;  I  deem  thee  poor; 

Since,  if  thou  darest  not  use  thj  store, 

But  savest  only  for  thine  heirs, 

The  treasure  is  not  thine,  but  theirs.  W.  C. 


Eugenia,  who  once  bloomed  in  beauty  and  in  song, 
[and]  was  mindful  of  much-revered  justice,  the  dust  of 
the  earth  hides ;  and  at  her  tomb  the  Muse,  Themis, 
Paphia  [Venus],  tear  their  hair. 

In  loveliness  and  poetry's  full  bloom, 
And  famed  in  jurisprudence,  we  laid  here 
Eugenia  in  the  dust     Upon  her  tomb 
Venus,  the  Muse,  and  Themis  dropt  a  tear. 

H.  W. 


Asclepiades,  the  miser,  saw  a  mouse  in  his  house,  and 
says,  **  What  art  thou   doing,  dearest  mouse,  in  my 
house  ?  "     And  the  mouse,  sweetly  smiling,  says,  **  Fear 
nothing,  my  friend ;  we  do  not  want  food  from  you,  but 
A  mouse  miser  Elwes  once  found  in  his  house : 
"  What  occasions  your  visit  to  me,  pretty  mouse  ?" 
Says  the  mouse,  sweetly  smiling,  "  My  friend,  do  not  fear  ; 
I  expect  not  a  meal,  but  a  solitude  here."  A.  Cr. 

The  miser  Asclepiades  a  mouse 

Saw,  and  said — "  Friend,  what  dost  thou  in  my  house  ?" 
"  Friend,  feel  no  fear,"  the  mouse,  sweet  smiling,  said, 
"  From  thee  I  seek  not  victuals,  but  a  bed."  G.  B. 


The  stingy  Dinarchus  being  about  to  hang  himself 
yesterday,  was,  Glaucus,  miserable  on  account  of  six  cop- 


pers,  and  did  not  die.  For  the  rope  cost  six  coppers  ; 
but  lie  thought  it  dear,  and  sought  perhaps  another 
death  [more]  cheap.^ 


A  mouse,  on  finding  the  little  Macro  asleep  in  sum- 
mer-time, dragged  him  by  his  little  foot  into  a  hole ;  and 
he,  being  unarmed,  did,  after  strangling  the  mouse  in  the 
hole,  cry  out,  "  Father  Jove,  thou  hast  a  second  Her- 


Menestratus  riding  on  an  ant,  as  on  an  elephant,  was 
stretched,  unlucky  fellow,  unexpectedly  on  his  back; 
and  being  kicked,  says,  when  the  mortal^  [blow]  seized 
him,  ^^  O  envious  deity !  thus  did  Phaethon  riding  like^ 
wise  perish." 

Menestratus,  once  riding  on  an  ant, 

As  on  the  broad  back  of  an  elephant, 

Was  on  a  sudden  stretch'd  upon  the  ground. 

Where  from  a  kick  he  got  a  mortal  wound  ; 

And  cried — "  Through  envy  of  the  gods  I  die, 

Falling,  as  once  did  Phaethon  from  the  sky." 

G.  B. 


To  the  cavern-loving  Pan  and  mountain-haunting 
Nymphs  and  Satjrrs,  and  the  sacred  Hamadryads*  with- 
in,^ Marcus  did,  after  catching  nothing  with  dogs  and 

*  Sv(T(avsutf  is  to  beat  down  the  price,  i.  e.  cheapen. 

^  The  point  of  this  Epigram  is  the  antithesis  between  Macro  and  fUKp6g> 
if/(\6C)  bare,  naked,  denuded.  The  Attic  writers  often  employ  it  in  the 
sense  of  "  without  arms." 

'  rb  Kalpiov,  adjective  from  Kcupb(fy  supply  fwpoc,  part. 

*  The  'AfiadpvdStQ  were  Nymphs  who  presided  over  trees,  chiefly  oaks, 
and  lived  and  died  with  them ;  hence  their  name,  A'^a,  "with,"  Spvg,  "oak." 

*  After  ivdov  is  to  be  imderstood  **  cavern,"  says  Jacobs.  Perhaps  the 
poet  wrote  dv  Spi\  "  among  thickets." 


spears,    previously   boar^slaying,    hang    up    his    very 


Gray  [hairs]  with  wisdom  are  in  greater  honour ;  but 
those  without  it  are  rather  the  shame  of  many  years. 
Gray  hairs,  if  you  are  silent,  are  understanding ;  but  if 
you  chatter  [they  are],  like  those  of  youth,  not  under- 
standing, but  hair  merely. 

A  hoary  head,  with  sense  combined, 
Claims  veneration  from  mankind  ; 
But,  if  with  folly  join'd,  it  bears 
The  badge  of  ignominious  years. 

Gray  hairs  will  pass  for  sapience  well, 

Untn  your  tongue  dissolve  the  spell ; 

Then,  as  in  youth,  'twill  all  appear 

No  longer  sense,  but  merely  hair.  R.  B. 

Gray  hairs,  with  wisdom  join'd,  may  claim  esteem ;. 
If  not,  of  many  years  disgrace  they  seem. 
Talk  not,  and  hairs  are  wisdom ;  talk,  you  11  find. 
Youth's  head  hairs  cover,  but  lay  bare  the  mind. 

G.  B. 


You  think  that  the  beard  causes  wisdom,  and  on  that 
account  you  nourish,*  my  dear  [fellow],  a  fly-flap.  Clip 
it,  be  persuaded  by  me,  quickly;  for  this  beard  [of 
yours]  is  become  the  cause  of  lice,  not  of  wisdom. 


No  one,  Meriestratus,  at  all  denies,  that  you  are  a 
cynic,  and  shoe-less,  and  that  you  shiver  with  the  cold : 
but  when  you  snatch,  without  shame,  at   bread,  and 

*  Tpkir<a,  Bph^j/iit.  By  this  change  of  the  position  of  the  aspirate,  the 
verb  is  distinguished  from  Tpsmaf  rpk^l/ia, 

D  2 


broken  victuals^  I  have  a  staff,  and    men   call    you 


This  is  the  monument  of  renowned  ^  Megistias ;  whom 
the  Medes  formerly  slew,  after  crossing  the  river  Sper- 
cheus ;  who,  [although]  he  then  knew  well  his  coining 
fate,  did  not  endure  to  leave  behind  him  the  chieis  of 

This  tomb  records  Megistias'  honoar'd  name, 
Who,  boldly  fighting  in  the  ranks  of  Fame, 
Fell  by  the  Persians  near  Spercheus^  tide. 
Both  past  and  future  well  the  prophet  knew ; 
And  yet,  though  death  was  open  to  his  view. 
He  chose  to  perish  at  his  general's  side. 

J.  H.  M. 
Of  famed  Megistias  is  here  the  tomb  ; 

Whom,  the  Spercheus  passing,  slew  the  Medes  ; 
A  seer,  who  well  foresaw  his  coming  doom. 
Yet  would  not  quit  the  Spartan  leader's  deeds. 



If  to  die  nobly  is  the  greatest  part  of  valour,  this  to 
us  of  all  men  has  Fortune  granted.  For  hastening  to 
throw  freedom  around  Greece,  we  lie  enjoying  praise, 
that  does  not  grow  old. 

Greatly  to  die — if  this  be  Glory's  height, 

For  the  fair  meed,  we  own  our  fortune  kind. 
For  Greece  and  Liberty  we  plunged  to  night. 
And  left  a  never-dying  name  behind.  Bl. 

If  to  perish  gloriously 

Valour's  consummation  be. 

Then  to  us,  of  all  mankind. 

Fortune  hath  the  prize  assign'd. 

Oh !  deathless  eulogy,  to  die 

Striving  for  Greece's  liberty.  H.  W. 

>  The  point  is  in  the  words  icvvucdv'and  K^utv, 

*  fcXcivoto,  Ionic  for  icX«v-o5.  Meyiffria,  Doric  for  -ov  in  the  gen. 
This  Doric  gen.  is  long,  but  here  the  a  is  short 


K  well  to  die  be  valour's  greatest  deed. 

This  Fortune  has  assigned  to  us  alone  ; 
Freedom  round  Greece  to  throw  we  made  all  speed  ; 

And  here  we  lie,  through  deathless  glory  known. 

G.  B. 


I  know  that  I  am  a  mortal  and  the  being  of  a  day ; ' 
but  when  I  am  seeking  out  the  thick  and  round-running 
spirals  of  the  stars,  I  no  longer  touch  the  earth  with  my 
feet,  but  near  Jove  himself  am  filled  with  god-feeding 

Though  but  the  being  of  a  day, 
When  I  yon  planet's  course  survey, 

This  earth  I  then  despise ; 
Near  Jove's  eternal  throne  I  stand, 
And  quaff  from  an  immortal  hand 

The  nectar  of  the  skies.  Ph.  Smtth. 


Me  alone,  with  my  children,  thou  ferry-man  of  the 
dead,  receive  [me]  the  chatterer.  The  freight  of  the 
daughter  of  Tantalus  is  enough  for  thee.  One  womb 
shaU  fiU  thy  boat.  See  youths  and  maidens,  the  sport 
of  Phoebus  and  Artemis.^ 

Me  with  my  children  only,  Charon,  take 

Across  thy  lake. 
Lading  enough  is  rash-tongued  Niobe ! 
That  single  womb  shall  fill  thy  bark  5  for  see 

Her  victim  train. 
Youths  by  Apollo,  maids  by  Dian  slain.         H.  W. 

Take,  ferryman  of  the  dead,  myself  and  all 

My  offspring ;  freight  enough  for  thy  frail  yawl. 

*  l^AfUpoQf  Doric  for  rj.  Bvarbg,  Doric  for  ly.  Oeorpo^iric  iftppotririQ, 
poetic  (or  Ionic)  for  -ac- 

*  mof  for  SkdeKo,  perf.  pass.  imp. 


One  womb  shall  fill  thy  bark.    Youths  and  maids,  lo ! 
Lie  kill'd  by  Phoebus'  and  Diana's  bow.  G.  B. 


Unpitying  Pluto  snatched  me,  Callimachus,  a  boy  of 
five  years,  possessing  a  careless  spirit.  But  lament  me 
not ;  for  I  have  had  the  portion  of  a  short  life  and  of 
few  of  the  ills  of  life. 

A  child  of  five  short  years,  unknown  to  woe, 

Callimachus  my  name,  I  rest  below. 

Mourn  not  my  fate.     K  few  the  joys  of  life, 

Few  were  its  ills,  its  conflicts ;  brief  its  strife.     T.  F. 


A.  Cruel  is  Charon.  B.  Rather,  kind.  A,  He  has 
now  snatched  away  a  person  young.  B,  But  in  mind 
equal  to  the  hoary-headed.  A,  He  has  made  him  to 
cease  from  pleasure.  B,  But  driven  him  away  from 
pain.  A,  He  [the  dead]  had  no  idea  of  marriage.  B. 
Nor  of  the  pains  of  marriage.* 

Cruel  is  death.     Nay,  kind.     He  that  is  ta'en. 
Was  old  in  wisdom,  though  his  years  were  few ; 
Life's  pleasure  he  has  lost ;  escaped  life's  pain  ; 
Nor  wedded  joys  nor  wedded  sorrows  knew.     G.  S. 


A  slave  am  I;  yea, a  slave  \  but  me  hast  thou, master, 
placed  Timanthes,  thy  foster-father,  in  a  free  tomb. 
Mayest  thou  fortunate  extend  thy  life  without  hurt; 
and  when  through  old  age  thou  comest  to  me,  I  shall  be 
thine,  master,  even  in  Hades.^ 

*  Jacobs  correctly  remarks,  that  this  Epigram  is  a  dialogue  between 
two  persons,  marked  by  A  and  B. 

*  i%iv  eOoVf  2  aor.  m.  jc^ v=sicai  kv — 


Timanthes,  master  dear,  albeit  a  slave, 
To  me,  thy  nurse,  thou  gav'st  a  freeman's  grave. 
Heaven  spare  thee  long ;  and  when  thou  com'st  to  me, 
E'en  there  thoult  find  me  faithful  still  to  thee. 

J.  W.  B. 


This  is  thy  memorial/  the  little  stone^  of  our  great 
love  for  thee,  virtuous  Sabinus.  Ever  shall  I  seek 
thee;  and  do  thou,  if  it  be  lawful  among  the  dead, 
drink  not,  as  regards  me,  any  of  the  water  of  Lethe. 

How  often,  Lycid,  shall  I  bathe  with  tears 
This  little  stone,  which  our  great  love  endears ! 
Thou  too,  in  memory  of  the  vows  we  made, 
Drink  not  of  Lethe  in  the  realm  of  shade  I 

J.  H.  M. 
This  stone,  beloved  Sabinus,  on  thy  grave 

Memorial  small  of  our  great  love  shall  be ; 
I  still  shall  seek  thee  lost.     From  Lethe's  wave, 

Oh,  drink  not  thou  forgetfulness  of  me.        G.  S. 


For  himself,  and  his  children,  and  his  wife,  Androtion 
built  [me],  a  tomb ;  but  of  none  am  I  as  yet  the  grave. 
So  may  I  remain  a  long  time.  But  if  it  must  be,  may  I 
receive  in  me  first  the  first  [born]. 

Androtion's  care  hath  founded  me. 

His  own,  wife's,  children's  tomb  to  be. 

Still  tenantless  I  am,  and  fain 

Would  ever  tenantless  remain. 

But  Fate  forbids.     Then  to  their  tomb. 

May  all  in  nature's  order  come.  6.  S. 

For  self,  and  children,  and  his  wife  this  tomb 
Androtion  built.     Of  none  I  tell  the  doom ; 

*  ftvtififfiov,  Ionic  for  fivfifttXov. 


And  long  may  I  not  tell.     When  speak  I  must^ 

Of  first-born  may  I  first  receive  the  dust.  G.  B. 


Who  ?  the  son  of  whom  ?  Euphemius  lies  here,  son  of 
Amphilochus ;  he  in  the  mouth  of  all  Cappadocians ;  he 
whom  the  Graces  gave  to  the  Muses.  The  hymeneal 
[songi]  were  around  his  door ;  but  the  Envy  [of  the 
gods]  came  too  quick.* 

Euphemius  slumbers  in  this  hallow'd  ground, 

Son  of  Amphilochus,  by  all  renown'd : 

He  whom  the  Graces  to  the  Muses  gave, 

Tuneful  no  more,  lies  mouldering  in  the  grave. 

The  minstrels  came  to  chaunt  the  bridal  lay ; 

But  swifter  Envy  bore  the  prize  away. 

Hugh  Boyd. 


This  [is]  the  great  physician  of  Julian  the  emperor, 
worthy  of  pious  regard,^  the  divine  Oribasius.  For  he 
had  a  wise  mind,  culling,  like  the  bee,  the  flowers  of 
former  physicians,  some  from  one,  and  others  from 


Acestoria^  knew  three  sorrows :  she  cut  off  her  locks 
first  for  Hippocrates,  and  secondly  for  Galen ;  and  now 
she  lies  about  the  sorrowful  tomb  of  Ablabius,  ashamed 
after  him  to  be  seen,  among  men. 


Crethis,  full  of  stories,  knovsdng  how  to  play  prettily, 

>  d}KVTspos  may  be  construed  as  an  adverb,  a  common  construction 
in  verse. 

2  ihoBplriQt  Ionic  for  iiotfidaq,  patriKiioCf  Ionic,  ola  [naCt  oTa], 
according  to  what  the  bee  has. 

»  *AK€(TTopifi,  [Ionic  for  a,]  from  aiecoTjjp,  a  physician;  devoted  to, 
fond  of,  physicians. 


oft  do  the  daughters  of  the  Samiaiis  seek,  their  sweetest 
fellow-weaver,  ever  prattling;  but  she  here  sleeps 
soundly  the  sleep  to  be  paid  as  a  debt  by  all  women. 


If  you  had  buried  me,  a  corpse,  looking  with  a  feeling 
of  pity,  you  would  have  had  from  the  blessed  [gods]  a 
reward  for  [your]  piety.  But  now,  since  you,  who  slew 
me,  hide  me  in  a  tomb,  may  you  have  a  share  in  the 
same  things  as^  you  have  given  to  me. 


Would  that  swift  ships  had  not  existed ;  for  we  shoidd 
not  have  lamented  Sopolis,  the  son  of  Dioclides.  But 
now  be  is  borne  some  where  on  the  se4  a  corpse ;  and 
we,  instead  of  him,  pass  by  his  name  and  empty  monu- 

Oh  I  had  no  venturous  keel  defied  the  deep, 
Then  had  not  Lycid  floated  on  the  brine ! 
For  him,  the  youth  beloved,  we  pass  and  weep, 
A  name  lamented,  and  an  empty  shrine.  B.  B. 

Would  that  no  ships  had  been.     For  we  no  tear 
Had  shed  for  Sopolis,. Diocleides'  heir. 
Now,  while  his  corpse  is  some  where  billow-tost, 
We  pass  the  empty  tomb  of  him  who's  lost.         G.  B. 


These  the  last  words  to^  her  dear  mother  did  Gorgo 
speak,^  in  tears,  [and]  hanging  by  her  hands  upon  her 
neck.     **  I  wish  thee  to  remain  here  with  my  father,  and 

*  lowtp,  the  relative  wv,  genitiTe  by  attraction,  with  its  antecedent 

*  tiv,  poetic  for  kv,  ovvofia,  Ionic  for  ovofta,   eafia,  Doric  for  oiifia, 

>  As  the  dialect  of  this  Epigram  is  Doric,  a  is  used  throughout  for 
ff,  and  voTi  for  trobs, 

*  hintf  poetic  lor  clirc. 


to  bear  another  daughter  for  a  better  fate,  having  a  care 
for  thine  hoary  age." 

Feebly  her  arms  the  dying  Gorgo  laid 

Upon  her  mother's  neck,  and  weeping  said — 

"  Stay  with  my  sire ;  and  bear  instead  of  me 

A  happier  child,  thine  age's  prop  to  be."  G.  S. 

These  last  words  Gorgo  to  her  mother  dear 

Said,  hanging  on  her  neck,  with  many  a  tear — 

"  With  father  stay ;  another  daughter  bear 

With  better  fate,  for  thine  old  age  to  care."         G.  B. 


[This  is]  of  the  rank-breaking  AchUles  the  tomb,  which  ^ 
once  the  Achaeans  built,  a  terror  for  Trojans,  even  yet 
to  be.  It  has  inclined  towards  the  sea-shore,  that  the 
son  of  Thetis,  the  sea-[goddes8],  might  rejoice  in  the 
roar  of  the  sea. 

The  tomb  of  brave  Achilles  this,  which  Greeks  beside  the 

Rear'd  up  in  ancient  days  to  scare  the  Trojans  yet  to  be. 
The  son  of  Ocean-Thetis  sleeps,  where  Ocean's  sleepless 

May  pour  for  him  all  lovingly  an  everlasting  dirge. 

J.  W.  B. 


This  [is]  the  tomb  of  Ajax,  son  of  Telamon,  whom 
Fate  slew,  making  use  of  his  hand  and  sword;  for 
Clotho,  although  desirous,  could  not  find*  among  mortals 
another  slayer  for  him. 

This  is  the  tomb  of  Ajax,  slain  by  Fate, 
Who  used  his  hand  and  sword  to  take  his  life ; 
For,  though  desirous,  she  could  find  no  mate 
Midst  men  to  finish  for  the  arms  the  strife.  G.  B. 

*  Sv  is  the  relative  to  rvfipoCy  not  to  'AxiXX^oc.    The  -tiog  is  lonic^ 
'  tvptftivai  for  tvptXv,  poetic. 



Thus  sit  I,  unhappy  Valour,  by  this  tomb  of  Ajax, 
having  cut  off  my  hair,  [and]  being  struck  as  to  my  mind 
with  grief;  since,  among  the  Greeks,  wily-minded  deceit  * 
has  been  judged  better  than  me.* 


Judge  not  of  me.  Hector,  by  my  grave,  nor  measure 
by  my  tomb  the  opponent  of  all  Greece.  My  tomb  is 
the  Iliad,  Homer  himself,  Greece,  the  flying  Greeks ; 
by  all  these  has  our  mound  been  raised. 

O  mete  not  Hector's  greatness  by  his  grave ; 
This  single  arm  erewhile  all  Greece  could  brave. 
The  Hiad,  Homer,  Greece,  and  Greeks  that  fled, 
These  are  my  tomb ;  all  these  enshrine  me  dead. 



Troy  died  with  Hector :  nor  any  longer  did  she  raise 
her  hands  against  the  advancing  sons  of  the  Greeks. 
And  Pella  perished  with  Alexander.  Countries  then 
are  made  glorious  by  men,  not  [we]  men  by  countries. 

Troy  did  with  Hector  die  ;  nor  could  its  arm 
From  sons  of  Greece  invading  ward  off  harm. 
Pella  with  Alexander  perish'd.     Countries  then 
Through  men  gain  honour,  not  through  countries  men. 

G.  B. 


O  Hector,  ever  bruited  in  the  books  of  Homer,  the 
most  lofty  defence  of  the   god-built  wall,'  with   thee 

'  In  ioXd^pwv  Airara  there  is  an  allusion  to  the  story  that  Ulysses  ob- 
tained the  yictory  over  Ajax  by  some  trickery. 

'  The  arms  of  Achilles  had  been  given  to  Ulysses,  in  preference  to  Ajax, 
who  slew  himself  through  mortification.  The  Doric  a  for  i;,  is  found 
throughout  the  Epigram. 

'  The  walls  of  Troy  were  fabled  to  be  built  by  Neptune. 


Meeonides*  ceased  from  his  song;    and  on  thy  dying. 
Hector,  even  the  page  of  the  Iliad  became  silent.^ 

Name  ever  rife  in  Homer's  lore  ! 

Hector,  of  god-built  walls  the  stay ! 

With  thine  the  poet's  toils  are  o'er ; 

And  with  thy  death  dies  Ilium's  day.  G.  S. 


A,  Say,  dog,  at  the  tomb  of  what  man  dost  thou  stand 
and  watch  ?  B.  Of  the  dog  ?  A.  But  who  was  this  man 
[called]  the  dog?  B.  Diogenes.  A.  Tell  his  race.  B.  Of 
Sinope.*  A.  He  who  dwelt  in  a  cask?  B.  Even  so; 
but  now,  being  dead,  he  has  the  stars  for  his  abode. 


While  beholding  once  again  the  Gymnastic  contest, 
thou  Elean  Jove  didst  snatch  away  suddenly  from  the 
Stadium  the  wise  man  Thales.  I  praise  [thee]  in  that 
thou  didst  lead  him  nearer  [to  thee] ;  for  the  old  man 
could  no  longer  see  from  the  earth  the  stars.* 


Not  thou  alone,  Pythagoras,  dost  keep  thy  hands 
from  things  with  life ;  but  we  IDiewise  [do  so] ;  for  who 
fis  there],  that  has  touched  [so  as  to  eat)  living  things  ? 
But  when  any  thing  is  boiled,  roasted,  and  salted,  then 
indeed,  when  it  has  no  life,  we  eat  it. 


Both  Xerxes  led  a  Persian  army  to  the  land  of  Greece, 
and  Titus  led  [one]  from  wide  Italia.      But  the  former 

^  Maeonides,  from  Mseonia,  the  supposed  birth-place  of  Homer. 
«  The  story  of  the  Iliad  closes  with  the  death  of  Hector. 

*  Diogenes  founded  the  sect  of  philosophers  called  Cynics. 

*  Thales  was  an  astronomer.  "  ElSan  Jotc."  The  Olympic  games 
were  sacred  to  Jupiter,  and  celebrated  at  EUs. 


came,  about  to  place  a  yoke  of  slavery  on  the  neck  of 
Europe;  the  latter,  to  cause  Greece  to  cease  from 

Xerxea  from  Persia  led  his  mighty  host, 

And  Titus  his  frcxn  fair  Italians  coast ; 

Both  warr'd  with  Greece.    But  here  the  difference  see ; 

That  brought  a  yoke ;  this  gives  her  liberty. 

J.  H.  M. 


Cleombrotus,  the  Ambraciote,  after  saying,  "  Farewell 
Sun !"  leaped  from  a  lofty  wall  into  Hades,  gtiilty*  of 
nothing  deserving  death,  but  having  read  a  single  writ- 
ing by  Plato,  concerning  the  soul.' 

"  O  Sun,  farewell  I"  irom  the  tall  rampart's  height, 

Cleombrotus  exclaiming,  plunged  to  night. 

Nor  wasting  care,  nor  fortune's  adverse  strife, 

Chill'd  his  young  hopes  with  weariness  of  life ; 

But  Plato's  godlike  page  had  fix'd  his  eye, 

And  made  lum  Icmg  for  immortality.  J.  H.  M. 

Loud  cried  Cleombrotus — "  Farewell,  O  Sun ! " — 
Ere  leaping  from  a  wall  he  join'd  the  dead. 
No  act  death  meriting  had  th'  Ambraciote  done, 
But  Plato's  volume  on  the  soul  had  read.  G.  B. 


This  dust  hides  Archedic6,  daughter  of  Hippias,  a  man* 
the  best  in  Greece  of  those  of  his  own  time.     Belonging 

*  'Ayayt,  Doric  for  ijyaye,  Tltptrav  for  Uiptr&v*  yav  for  yfiv*  i&fiirav' 
ff(i>v  for  iLvairaijatav,  v  before  v  becoming  /i.   wuq  for  vvijc. 

«  iraBiaQt  literally,  "  suffering."    it  *npi  for  b'^iifi^  etirac,  1  aor.  part., 
an  irregular  form. 

*  Now  called  the  Phaedo. 


to  a  father,  and  a  husband,^  and  brothers,  and  children 
(all)  sovereign  princes,  she  was  not  elated  in  her  mind 
to  any  arrogant  conduct. 

Archedice,  the  daughter  of  king  Hippias, 
Who  in  his  time, 

Of  all  the  potentates  of  Greece  was  prime. 

This  dust  doth  hide : 

Daughter,  wife,  sister,  mother  unto  kings  she  was, 
Yet  free  from  pride. 


Of  Greeks  was  Hippias  first,  while  shone  his  day ; 

Below*  Archedice,  his  daughter,  lies. 
Sire,  husband,  brethren,  sons  had  kingly  sway ; 

But  ne'er  did  pride  within  her  bosom  rise. 



Phasis  did  not  paint  thee,  fortunate  Cynegirus, 
as^  Cynegirus,  since  he  put  up*  with  strong  hands. 
But  the  painter  was  a  clever  fellow,  and  deprived  thee 
not  of  hands,  thee  who  art  immortal  because  of  thy 


•^O  thou  Cynegirus,  unhappy,  both  [when]  among  the 
living,  and  when  thou  hadst  departed,  how  continually 
art  thou  cut  up  by  words  and  blows !  Formerly  in  wars 
thy  hand,  while  thou  wast  fighting,  fell :  and  now  the 
epigrammatist  deprived  thee  of  a  foot  too  [wrote  of  you 
in  lame  verse]. 

*  She  [Archedic^l  became  the  wife  of  JBantides,  ruler  of  Lampsacus. 

*  In  lieu  of  KadwCf  the  conjecture  of  Brunck,  Jacobs  would  elicit 
Kvpiy€ip'  hvfiaiCt  from  ILvvsyeipe  rov  cue  in  MSS. 

*  As  avQiTo  wants  its  accusative,  Jacobs  would  read  ppiapaXc  advOero — 
On  KvvsytLpoCt  or  rather  TLvvaiyeipoQ,  whose  hands  were  cut  off,  while 
clinging  to  the  vessel  of  the  enemy,  see  Herodotus  vi.  114. 

*  He  seems  to  have  lost  his  hands,  and  yet  to  have  been  painted  with 



The  mirror  speaks  not ;  but  on  the  other  hand  I  will 
convict  thee  of  thy  bastard  [not  genuine]  beauty, 
smeared  with  paint.^  This  also  the  sweet  lyrist  Pindar 
once  reprovinff  as  a  shame,  said — ^^  Water  is  the  most 
excellent,"  a  thing  most  hostile  to  paint. 

LXVin.    NOSSIS. 

Automelinna  has  been  modelled.  See  how  her  gentle 
coimtenance  seems  to  look  sweetly  upon  m6.  How  truly 
is  the  daughter  like  in  all  things  to  her  mother  !  Surely 
[it  is]  well,  when  children  are  like  their  parents.* 

In  this  loved  stone  Melinna's  self  I  trace ; 
'Tis  hers  that  form ;  'tis  hers  that  speaking  face. 
How  like  her  mother's !  Oh,  what  joy  to  see 
Ourselves  reflected  in  our  progeny !  J.  H  M. 


The  pencil  scarcely  represents  the  eyes  of  a  maiden,  or 
her  hair,  or  the  bright  surface  of  the  skin.'  If  any  one 
can  paint  flickering  sunbeams,  he  will  paint  likewise 
the  flickering  brightness  of  Theodorias. 

Her  living  glance,  pure  cheek,  and  golden  hair, 
Alas !  how  dimly  these  are  pictured  there ! 
When  thou  canst  paint  a  sunbeam  in  the  sky, 
Then  hope  to  match  my  Helen's  beaming  eye. 

J.  W.  B. 


Wax  caused  thee,  Icarus,  to  perish ;  but  now  to  thy 
form  once  more  the  brass-founder  has  restored  thee  in 

*  ^vKOQt  literally  sea-weed ;  here  a  red  dye  made  of  it. 
'  In  this  epigram  the  Doric  dialect  is  used  throughout.     Hence  'AfU 
for  ifU,  voT  for  Trpdc*  in  frorofrrd^civ  and  iror^Kci,  and  5««a  for  *6Tt. 
'  Ionic,  xpotiic  for  xpoiac* 


brass.      But  wave  not  thy  wings  tlurough  the  air,  lest 
falling  &om  the  air  thou  makest  the  bath  an  Icarian  [sea]. 


Here  men  pii!t  into  small  portions  the  course  of  the 
sun-light  for  about  twelve  hours,  and  with  water  they 
weigh  [measure]  the  path  of  the  sun,  *  supporting 
themselves  as  to  their  skill*  from  earth  to  heaven. 


Naiads,  Nereids,  and  Dryads  here  contend,  to  whom 
the  place  more  correctly  belongs ;  and  a  Grace  is  a  judge 
between^  them;  but  she  cannot  determine  justly,  since 
the  place  has  a  delight  common  [to  all]. 

Ever  is   the  sea  a  foe   to  Laertiades.^      The  wave 
washed  his  portrait  and  caused  the  form  to  disappear 
from  the  tablet.     What  matters  it  ?   for  in  the  epic  of 
Homer  his  image  is  engraved  on  imperishable  pages. 

Who  was  he  that  inscribed  in  pages  the  war  of  Troy  ? 
or  who  the  long  wandering  of  Laertiades  ?  I  find  clearly 
neither  his  name,  nor  his  city.      Heavenly  Jove  !    per- 
haps* Homer  has  the  glory  of  thy  poems. 

Who  gave  the  war  of  Troy  to  page  and  pen  ? 
Who  the  long  wand'rings  of  Laertes'  son  ? 
His  name  and  country  I  find  not.     Has  then 
Homer  his  glory,  Jove,  from  thy  words  won  ? 

G.  B. 

^ — ^  This  is  the  literal  translation  of  fiririv  iptifrdfievoi.     But  there  is 
probably  some  error  in  the  Greek. 
'  uktraroc,  poetic  for  fik<rog.     "Stfiahg,  Ionic  for  Noia^ec- 

*  Laertiades,  Ulysses,  son  of  Laertes,  kAk  for  kcU  i«.   tlv  kirittrmv, 
poetic  for  iv  €irs<nv.    Iiroc,  Epic  or  heroic  poem. 

*  fiflvoTt  is  here  used,  as  in  the  later  Greek  writers,  in  the  sense  of 
"  perhaps."  Or  fAtj  may  be  taken  interrogatively.  See  Liddell's  Lexicon. 



To  a  vain  purpose,  tlirough  custom,  has  EutycUdes 
placed  me  Priapusasthe  guardof  withered  vine-branches ; 
and  I  am  surrounded  by  a  steep  precipice.  But  whoever 
may  come,  has  nothing  to  steal,  but  myself  the  guard. 


When  carrying  off  the  winged  Hermes,  the  minister 
of  the  gods,  the  king  of  the  Arcadians,  the  cattle-driver, 
who  stands  as  the  superintendent  of  these  Gymnasia^ 
the  night-robber  Aulus  said, "  Many  scholars  are  cleverer 
than  their  masters."  ^ 

When  Aulus,  the  night-thief,  had  made  a  prize 

Of  Hermes,  swift- wing'd  envoy  of  the  skies, 

Hermes,  Arcadia's  king,  the  thief  divine. 

Who,  when  an  infant,  stole  Apollo's  kine, 

And  whom,  as  arbiter  and  overseer 

Of  our  gymnastic  sports,  we  planted  here— 

"  Hermes,"  he  cried,  "  you  meet  no  new  disaster ; 

Ofttimes  the  pupil  goes  beyond  his  master."       W.  C. 


Periander  placed  this  statue  of  Arion,  and  of  the  dol- 
phin that  in  the  sea  swam  in  haste  to  him  when  perish- 
ing. Now  the  fable  of  Arion  says,  that  by  men  we  are 
slain,  by  fish?  we  are  saved. 

Having  dined  yesterday  upon  a  goat*s  foot,  and  on  a 
dish  of  the  yellow^  sprout  of  dried  hemp,  ten  days  old, 

^  Mercury  had  all  the  characters  here  assigned  to  him,  and  was  besides 
the  god  of  thieves. 

•  The  word  Ix'^vQ  is  composed  of  the  initial  letters  of  the  words  'Ijjffov 
Xpurrbg  Yibc  Oeov.  It  was  used  in  the  early  times  of  the  Church  in  a 
sacred  and  mystical  sense.  If  Bianor  lived  at  the  time  of  Tiberius,  it  is 
possible  that  he  thus  united  events  found  in  Pagan  and  Christian  records. 

'  liriXivov,  Uterally,  1 .  made  of  apples  or  quinces,  2.  the  colour  of  the  sam  e 
— a  quince  yellow,  dffirdpayov  does  not  necessarily  mean  the  English 
asparagus,  but  merely  a  shoot  or  sprout  of  (in  this  instance)  the  hemp 


I  am  cautious  of  naming  my  inviter,  for  he  is  quick* 
tempered^  and  I  have  no  common  fear  lest  he  should  ask 
me  again. 


*^  To  deadly  wrath  "  and  a  wife  too  I  am,  unhappy  man, 
-married,  beginning  even  by  my  art  with  wrath.^  Alas  ! 
abounding  m  anger  am  I,  having  a  fate  doubly  wrath- 
fill,  my  art  being  that  of  a  grammarian,  and  my  wife 
being  contentious  or  warlike.^ 


They  say  that  you,  Heliodora,  bathe  for  a  long  time 
without  releasing  yourself  from  being  the  old  woman  of  a 
hundred  years.  But  I  know  why  jou  do  this.  You 
hope  to  become  young  again,  by  bemg  boiled  like  the 
aged  Pelias.^ 


Having  such  a  snout,  Olympicus,  go  not  to  a  foun- 
tain, nor  any  transparent  water  on  a  mountain ;  for  you 
too,  like  Narcissus,  on  seeing  plainly  your  face,  will  die, 
hating  thyself  to  death. 

Heavens,  what  a  nose !     Forbear  to  look, 

Whene'er  you  drink,  in  fount  or  brook : 

For,  as  the  fair  Narcissus  died, 

When  hanging  o'er  a  fountain's  side, 

You  too,  the  limpid  water  quaffing, 

May  die,  my  worthy  sir,  with  laughing.  Bl. 

1  Jacobs  says  that  the  epigrammatists  were  wont  to  designate  the  pro- 
fession of  a  grammarian  or  critic  by  the  first  line  of  the  Iliad. 

2  The  pun  is  in  the  words  urjviv  oiXofjikvriv,  found  in  the  beginning  of 
the  Iliad,  and  in  the  name  of  Andromache,  formed  of  &vrip  and  ftaxi;, 
i.  e.  "  husband-fighting/* 

3  See  Ovid,  Met.  vii.  348. 


With  such  a  nose,  Olympicus,  ne'er  look 

Into  a  limpid  lake  or  mountain-brook ; 

For  thou,  Narcissus-like,  wilt  die.     Thy  face 

Hating,  when  seen,  and  bringing  on  disgrace.     G.  B. 


Pallas  on  seeing  Cvtherea  [Venus]  armed,  said,  "  O 
Cyprian  [goddess],  wilt  thou  [that]  we  thus  go  to  a  con- 
test?" And  she  [replied],  smiling  softly,  "  What  [avails 
it]  for  me  to  lift  up  a  shield?  ff  I  conquer  unarmed, 
how  when  I  take  up  arms  ?" 

Pallas  met  Beauty's  queen  array'd  in  arms — 
"  Dost  thou  too  venture  on  the  listed  field  ?" 
Smiling  she  answer'd,-^^'  K  my  naked  charms 
Such  victories  gain — ^what  with  my  spear  and  shield  ?** 

J.  H.  M. 
Pallas  saw  Venus  clad  in  arms,  and  cried — 
"  Come,  if  thou  wilt ;  be  thus  our  merits  tried." 
Said  Venus,  smiling  sweet — "  I  bear  no  shield, 
"Victor  unarm'd ;  how  not,  if  arms  I  wield.*'         G.  B. 


Pallas  and  golden-sandaled  Juno  looking  on  Moeonis, 
both  exclaimed  from  their  heart,  "Not  again  do  we 
make  ourselves  naked ;  one  judgment  of  a  shepherd  is 
enough;  it  is  not  well  to  be  twice  inferior  as  to  beauty.'* 

Pallas  with  golden-sandal'd  Juno  gazed 

On  Mooonis,  till  both  cried  out  amazed — 

"  Once  to  the  shepherd-judge  our  charms  we  bared ; 

Twice  'tis  not  well  to  be  less  fair  declared." 

H.  W. 


Marcellus,  on  returning  from  a  western-war  to  the 
boundary  of  ancient  Italy  and  bearing  spoil,  first  shaved 


his  flaxen  beard :  for  thus  his  country  willed  to  send  him 
forth  a  boy^  and  take  him  [back]  a  man. 


Cutting  the  down  that  grew  in  due  season  beneath  his 
temples,  the  manly  messenger  af  his  cheeks,  Lycon 
made  his  first  offering  to  Phoebus;  and  he  prayed  he 
might  thus  cut  also  the  gray  hair  from  his  white  temples. 


Formerly  the  wisdom  of  the  aged  feared  thee,  when 
thou  wert  young,  Faustinus ;  now  the  strength  of  the 
young  has  reared  thee,  when  old.  Thy  labour  has  found 
all  tmngs  inferior  [to  it].  It  gives  thee  the  honour  of 
age  among  the  yoimg,  and  of  youth  among  the  aged. 


I,  the  trumpet  that  formerly  poured  forth  in  battle  the 
bloody  note  of  war,  and  the  sweet  strain  of  peace,  am 
laid  up,  O  Pherenicus,  to  the  virgin  [goddess]  Tritonis, 
after  ceasing  jfrom  loud-roaring  blasts. 

A  trumpet,  Pherenicus,  that  the  strain 
Pour'd  forth  in  bloody  combat,  and  again 
In  peace  the  pleasant  note,  I'm  hung  on  high, 
A  gift  to  Pallas,  freed  from  war's  hoarse  cry. 



The  Brettians^  cast  away  their  weapons  from  their 
shoulders  doomed  to  a  dreadfrd  end,  struck  by  the  hands 
of  the  Locrians  quick  ii^  fight ;  whose  valour  celebrat- 
ing they  [the  arms]  lie  as  spoils  in  the  temples  of  the 
gods,  neither  do  they  desire  the  arms*  of  the  cowards 
which  they  left. 

>  The  people  here  called  Bplrreoi,  and  elsewhere  Bpkvnotf  are  the  same 
as  the  "  Brutii "  in  Latin, 
*  wdxtas  is  Doric  for  iriiXiciSi  derived  from  ir^xvc. 



To  Pan  a  kid,  to  the  Nymphs  roses,  to  Lyaeus  [Bac- 
chus] thyrsi/  a  three-fold  offering,  Biton  placed  be- 
neath the  thick  foliage.  Receive  them,  ye  gods,  pro- 
pitiously, and  increase  ever,  thou.  Pan,  the  herd,  ye 
Nymphs,  the  fountain,  thou,  Bacchus,  the  liquor  [wine.] 

To  Pan,  the  Nymphs,  and  Bacchus  Biton  gave 

Kids,  roses,  thyrsus,  in  a  leafy  shrine ; 
Ye  deities,  kindly  take  the  gifts,  and  save, 

Pan,  herdlings.  Nymphs,  the  fountains,  Bacchus,  wine. 


XC,    PLATO. 

I  who  smiled  haughtily  at  Greece,  I  who  had  a  swarm  of 
youthful  lovers  at  my  doors,  I,  Lais,  [offer]  to  the  Paphian 
[goddess]  my  mirror :  for  such  [asl  am]  I  am  not  will- 
ing to  behold  myself;  and  such  as  I  was  once,  I  cannot  see. 

I  Lais,  once  of  Greece  the  pride. 
For  whom  so  many  suitors  sigh'd, 
Now  aged  grown,  at  Venus'  shrine 
The  mirror  of  my  youth  resign ; 
Since  what  I  am,  I  will  not  see ; 
And  what  I  was,  I  cannot  be. 

E.  L.  Swift. 
Venus,  take  my  votive  glass. 
Since  I  am  not  what  I  was : 
What  from  this  day  I  shall  be, 
Venus,  let  me  never  see.  Priob. 


Of  three  acquaintances  the  nets  for  a  three-fold  hunt- 
ing receive,  O  Pan.  For  Pigres  oflFers  thee  this  for 
birds;  for  beasts,  Damis  [this];  and  Clitor  [this]. for 
the  sea.  And  grant  them  to  hunt  with  success  air,  land, 

1  Oifpira,  pi.  of  Qiiptrog. 


Three  brothers  dedicate,  O  Pan,  to  thee 
Their  nets  and  different  emblems  of  their  toil ; 
Pigres,  who  brings  from  realms  of  air  his  spoi!, 
Damis  from  woods,  and  Clitor  from  the  sea ; 
So  may  the  treasures  of  the  deep  be  given 
To  this ;  to  those  the  fruits  of  earth  and  heaven. 

J.  H.  M. 

To  Glaucus  and  Nereus,  and  Melicerta  daughter  of 
Ino,  and  to  the  son  of  Cronus  [Neptune]  ruling  the 
deep,  and  to  the  Samothracian  gods,  I,  Lucillius,  saved 
from  the  sea,  have  thus  cut  oflF  the  hair  from  my  head; 
for  I  have  nothing  else  [to  offer]. 

The  Molossian  Pyrrhus  hung  up  these  shields  as  a 
gift  to  Itonis  Ath^n^,  [taken]  from  the  bold  Galatians, 
after  he  had  destroyed  all  the  army  of  Antigonus.  It 
is  not  a  great  wonder.  The  -Sacidae*  [are]  warriors  now, 
and  [were]  formerly. 

Molossian  Pyrrhus  to  the  Itonian  power 

These  shields  suspends,  from  fierce  Galatians  won. 

Thus  in  their  age,  as  in  their  youthful  flower, 

The  race  of  u^acus  triumphant  shone.       J.  H.  M. 

I^  this  helmet,  have  obtained  a  double  charm,  I  am  both 
a  pleasure  for  my  friends  to  look  upon,  and  a  fear  to  my 
enemies.  And  Piso  bom  of  Pylsemenes  possesses  me. 
The  helmet  neither  became  other  hair,  nor  did  other  hair 
become  the  helmet. 


If  you  look  at  me,  I  also  [look  at]  you.    Why  do  you 

^  Pyrrhus  of  Epirus,  the  formidable  foe  of  the  Romans,  traced  his  de- 
scent to  the  iEacidee.    rdKarav,  Doric  gen.  pi.  for  TaXar&v, 


look  at  me  with  eyes  ?^  But  I  do  not  see  you  with  eyes/ 
for  I  have  none.  And  if  you  wish,  I  speak  to  you  with- 
out a  voice ;  for  the  voice  is  yours,  but  I  have  lips  that 
open  in  vain. 

As  we  gaze  on  each  other,  yoor  eyes  look  at  me  ; 

But  eyes  I  have  none ;  though  I  look,  I  don't  see. 

Ill  converse,  if  you  please ;  you  11  hear  nothing,  'tis  true  ; 

For  I  open  my  lips,  but  have  no  voice  like  you. 

H.  W. 


Hippocrates,  healer  of  men,  and  you  Sosander,  [healer] 
of  horses,  both  skilled  in  hidden  means  of  cure,  either 
change  your  art  or  your  name,  nor  let  one  be  called  by 
that  art,  of  which  the  other  is  a  master.^ 


Among  the  Muses  too  there  are  Erinnyes,  who  make 
you  a  poet,  in  return  for  the  quantity  you  write  without 
judgment.  Therefore  I  beg  of  you,  write  more;  for  I 
cannot  pray  for  you  a  madness  greater  than  this. 

Some  Furies  sure  possessed  the  Nine,  what  time 
They  dubb'd  thee  poet  with  thy  trashy  rhyme. 
Scribble  away ;  if  madness  be  a  curse. 
What  greater  can  I  wish  thee  than  thy  verse  ? 



Philocles  has  hung  up  to  Hermes  his  pleasant-sounding 
ball,  and  this  loud  clapper  of  box,  and  the  dice  also  of 
which  he  was  madly  fond,  and  his  whirling  top,  the 
playthings  of  his  youth. 

-    *— *  /3Xi0apa,  the  eye-laahes,  is  used  for  600aX/i^c,  eye. 

*  The  point  of  the  Epigram  turns  upon  iViroc,  "  horse,"  and  cparciv, 
*  to  rule  i"  and  <rw^e(v,  "  to  save,"  and  dvtjp,  "man,"  applied  not,  as  they 
should  be,  to  man  and  horse  doctors. 



Seeing  the  Cnidian  Cytherea,  you  would,  stranger, 
say  thus — "  Rule  thou  both  mortals  and  immortals ; " 
but  beholding  among  the  Cecropidae  Pallas,  bold  with 
the  spear,  you  will  say — ^ "  Truly  a  cowherd  was  Paris."  * 

Seeing  the  Cnidian  Venus,  thou  would'st  say — 

"  Ever  o'er  men  and  gods  retain  thy  sway." 

Seeing  at  Athens  Pallas  in  arms  shine, 

Thoult  say—"  Of  nothing  Paris  knew  but  kine."  G.  B. 


Enjoy  your  wealth,  as  if  about  soon  to  die ;  but  as  if 
about  to  live,  spare  ^  your  possessions.  A  wise  man  is 
he,  who  bearing  both  these  in  mind,  adapts  moderation 
to  frugality  and  expense. 

Your  goods  enjoy,  as  if  about  to  die ; 

As  if  about  to  live,  use  sparingly. 

That  man  is  wise,  who,  bearing  both  in  mind, 

A  mean,  befitting  waste  and  thrift,  can  find.        G.  B. 


I.    PHILIP. 

One  person  was  maimed  in  his  feet,  and  another  in  his 
eyes;  but  both  contributed  to  them[selves]  what  was 
wanting  in  Fortune.  For  the  blind,  taking  the  lame  as  a 
burden  on  his  shoulders,  by  the  [other*s]  words  walked 
in  a  straight  path.  Thus  did  a  bitter  and  very  bold 
necessity  teach  them  all  this — ^to  share,  in  compassion  to 
each  other,  what  was  wanting. 

^ — ^  Although  a  shepherd  is  said  to  be  as  siUy  as  his  sheep,  yet  a  cow- 
herd is  not  said  to  be  as  silly  as  a  cow.  There  is  therefore  probably  some 
error  in  Svrwc  Povk6\oq,  which  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  correct 

'  ^iid€o  is  for  ^ildov :  ^ct^oi  from  fttd^,  a  peculiar  form  of  the  datiye. 



Thrasybulus  came  to  Pitan^  breathless  on  his  shield, 
after  receiving  from  the  Arrives  seven  wounds,  showing 
them  all  in  front.  Him  [weltering!  in  his  blood  the  agea 
Tynnichns  placed  upon  the  frineral  pile,  and  spoke  thus : 
"  Let  cowards  be  wept  for ;  but  I  will  bury  thee,  my 
son,  without  a  tear,  thee,  who  wast  both  mine  and  a 

When  Thrasybulus  from  the  embattled  field 

Was  breathless  borne  to  Sparta  on  his  shield, 

His  honoured  corse,  disfiginred  still  with  gore 

From  seven  wide  wounds,  (but  all  received  before,) 

Upon  the  pyre  his  hoary  father  laid, 

And  to  the  admiring  (»x)wd  triumphant  said — 

''  Let  slaves  lament ;  while  I  without  a  tear 

Lay  mine  and  Sparta's  son  upon  his  bier.**     J.  H.  M. 


A  Laconian  woman,  on  seeing  her  own  son  returning 
without  his  shield  from  war,  and  putting  out  a  rapid  foot 
towards  his  native  soil,  rushed  td  meet  him,  and  thrust  a 
spe^r  through  his  liver,  bursting  forth  into  a  manly 
exclamation  over  him  when  killed — "  Offspring,  an  alien 
to  Sparta,  go  to  Hades,  go,  since  thou  wast  false  both  to 
thy  countay  and  to  thy  father." 

A  Sptutan  woman,  when  she  saw  her  son, 

Who  without  arms  had  from  the  battle  run, 

And  with  quick  foot  his  native  soil  had  press'd. 

Meeting,  a  spear^s  point  drove  right  through  his  breast, 

And  o'er  his  corpse  with  manly  voice  she  cried— 

"  Go,  bastard  son  of  Sparta,  go,  and  hide 

In  Hades'  darkness  thee  and  thy  disgrace ; 

Perish,  thou  false  one  to  thy  land  and  race."       G.  B. 

ON  THE   SAME    [eVENT]. 

A  Spartan  had  once  fled  from  battle ;  and  meeting 


him^  his  mother  said^  raising  a  sword  against  his  breast, 
"  By  living  thou  bindest  thoroughly^  disgrace  upon  thy 
modier,  and  breakest  the  ancestral  laws  of  mighty  Sparta; 
but  if  thou  diest  by  my  hands,  I  shall  hear  myself  called 
an  unhappy  mother,  but  saved  in  my  country.** 

From  the  dire  conflict  as  a  Spartan  fled, 
His  mother  cross'd  his  path  and  awful  said. 

Pointing  a  sword  against  his  dastard  heart — 
"  If  thou  canst  live,  the  mark  of  scorn  and  shame, 
.  Thou  liv'st,  the  murderer  of  thy  mother's  fame, 
The  base  deserter  from  a  soldier^s  part. 
If  by  this  hand  thou  diest,  my  name  must  be 
Of  mothers  most  unblest ;  but  Sparta  *s  free.** 

J.  H.  M. 
A  Spartan  fled  the  flght.     His  mother  met 
And  thus  address'd  lum — ^while  a  sword  she  set 
Against  his  breast — "  Thou  on  thy  mother  shame, 
No  garland,  hast  placed  round,  and  Sparta's  name 
Deflled,  and  statutes  broken ;  if  by  me 
Thou  diest  here,  a  mother  I  shall  be 
Call'd  hapless,  but  through  me  my  country*8  free.** 


V.    PHILIP. 

Xerxes,  seeing  the  great  body  of  Leonidas,  self-slain, 
was  covering  it  with  a  purple  cloak.  But  even  from  the 
dead  the  mighty  hero  of  Sparta  exclaimed — ^^  I  receive 
not  the  reward  due  to  traitors;  a  shield  is  the  great 
honour  of  my  tomb :  take  from  me  the  Persian  [gifts]. 
I  will  enter  into  Hades  even  as  a  Lacedaemonian.**' 

The  Spartan's  mangled  corpse  when  Xerxes  spied, 

He  long'd  to  wrap  it  in  a  robe  of  pride. 

Then  rose  from  earth  that  hero's  voice  in  scorn — 

"  Hence  with  thy  gifts,  by  none  but  traitors  worn. 

Bury  me  on  my  shield,  and  let  me  go 

Down,  like  a  Spartan,  to  the  reahns  below.*'    J.  W.  B. 

*  The  adverb  BtafiwipkQ,  derived  from  ^id,  <ivd,  and  irspaQt  could  hardly 
be  united  to  ivdyrreiv  in  the  sense  of  binding;  although  it  might,  u 
iivairTiiQ  be  rendered  "  thou  lightest  up." 

*  irovkiiQ^  Ionic  for  iroXvc*    Acoiih^co^,  Ionic  gen.  for  Atuvldou. 



Thou  bird,  the  carrier  to  and  fro  of  the  son  of  Saturn 
[Jupiter],  why  standest  thou  with  a  stem  look  upon  the 
tomb  of  great  Aristomenes  ?  I  am  announcing  to  men, 
that  as  I  am  the  bravest  of  birds,  so  he  is  of  heroes. 
Cowardly  doves  shall  settle  upon  cowards ;  but  we  de- 
light in  fearless  men. 

Herald  of  Jove,  why  in  stem  majesty 

Here  dost  thou  sit  ?  That  all  the  earth  may  see, 

As  I  of  birds  the  monarch  am,  so  erst 

Was  Aristomenes  of  youths  the  first. 

Let  coward  doves  perch  on  the  coward's  grave ; 

But  the  brave  eagle  ever  loves  the  brave.  G.  S. 


A  scrip,  and  a  cloak,  and  a  barley-loaf  kneaded  with 
water,  and  a  staff  leant  upon  before  his  feet,  and  a  cup 
[made]  of  clay,  are  sufficient  means  of  life  for  the  wise 
Cynic.  And  even  in  these  there  is  something  superflu- 
ous. For  on  seeing  a  herdsman  draw^  a  draught  [of 
water]  in  the  hollow  of  his  hands,  he  said,  "  Why  have 
I  been  vainly  carrying  thee,  O  shell-shaped  clay,  as  a 


Say  by  what  means  dost  thou  measure  the  world  and 
the  bounds  of  the  earth,  having  a  small  body  [composed] 
of  a  small  portion  of  earth.  Measure  thyself  first,  and 
know  thyself,  and  then  flhalt  thou  measure  the  boimdless 
earth.  But  if  thou  measurest  not  the  little  clay  of  thy 
body,  how  canst  thou  know  the  measures  of  the  measure- 


I  would  wish  to  be  rich,  as  Croesus  once  was  rich,  and 
to  be  king  of  the  great  Asia.  But  when  I  look  upon  Nica- 

'  The  active  iiphi*  is  rarely  used  in  the  sense  of  drawing  water.  The 
Terb  is  more  generally  in  the  middle  voice. 


nor  the  cofEn-maker,  and  know  for  what  he  makes  those 
cases,  I,  scattering  cates,^  and  moistening  [myself]  with 
cups,  sell  Asia  for  ointments  and  cups. 

Wealth,  such  as  Croesus  erst  could  own, 

I'd  ask,  or  Asia's  mighty  throne. 

But  at  Nicanor's  shop  hard  by, 

When  I  the  undertaker  spy. 

Making  those  cupboards,  you  know  why, 

All  Asia's  grandeurs  I  resign 

For  garlands,  odours,  cates,  and  wine.  H.  W. 


Hermocrates,  the  money-lover,  when  dying,  in  his 
will,  wrote  himself  the  heir  of  his  possessions^  And  he  lay, 
reckoning  how  much  he  shoidd  give  as  a  reward  to  the 
physicians^  on  rising  [from  his  sick  bed],  and  what  he  ex- 
pends when  sick.  But  when  he  found  it  would  be  one 
drachma  more,  if  he  were  saved,  he  said, "  It  is  profitable 
to  die."    And  stretched  out  he  was  [in  death]. 


I  was  a  reed,  a  useless  plant ;  for  from  me  neither  figs, 
nor  apple,  nor  cluster  [of  grapes]  grows.  But  a  man 
initiated  me  in  the  mysteries  of  Helicon,  boring  [in  me] 
thin  lips,  and  making  me  the  channel  for  a  narrow 
stream.  And  from  that  [time]  when  I  drink  black 
drink,  just  as  one  inspired,  1  speak  every  word  with  this 
voiceless  mouth.* 

An  useless  plant  I  was  of  yore, 
Nor  fig,  nor  grape,  nor  apple  bore ; 
But  a  man  did  to  me  impart 
Of  Helicon  the  secret  art. 

'  Jacobs  und^stands  A^iyrpoc  after  dcr^V,  and  says  that  dimiv  has 
been  incorrectly  translated  "  sea-shore,"  as  if  the  drinking  took  place 

'  On  *JSXuc(aviSa,  fern,  adj.,  joined  to  ic^o^hoc,  see  Bkmfield  on  ^sch. 
Prom.  1.    povv,  Att.  for  p6ov. 


Through  him  mj  lips  were  slender  made. 

And  narrow  channel  so  displaj'd, 

That  when  some  drops  of  blacken'd  ink, 

Like  one  with  Bacchus  fall,  I  drink. 

With  mouth,  that  has  no  voice,  I  stUl 

Can  talk  whatever  words  you  wilL  G.  B. 


You  have  a  Thessalian  horse^  Erasistratos ;  but  the 
charms  [magic]  of  all'  Thessaly  cannot  make  him  caper 
about^  a  horse  truly  of  wood ;  which,  if  all  the  Phrygians 
with  the  Greeks  were  drawing  it,  would  not  enter  the 
ScsBan  gate.^  Presenting  him  as  an  offering  to  some  god, 
if  you  heed  me,  make  the  oats  [of  the  horse]  gruel 
for  your  little  children. 


Not  the  water  in  the  time  of  Deucalion,  when  all 
things  were  overwhelmed,  nor  Phaethon,  who  burnt 
up  those  upon  the  earth,  destroyed  so  many  persons  as 
Fotamo  the  poet  and  Hermogenes  the  surgeon  have 
killed.  So  that  for  ages  there  have  been  these  four 
evils,  Deucalion,  Phaethon,  Hermogenes,  Potamo. 

Not  Deucalion's  deluge,  nor  Phaethon's  roast, 
Ever  sent  such  a  cart-load  to  Phlegethon's  coast, 
As  our  Laiureate  with  odes  and  with  elegies  kills. 
And  our  Doctor  destroys  with  infallible  pills. 
Then  well  these  four  plagues  with  each  otha:  may  vie, 
Deuddion  and  Phaethon,  Brodie  and  Pye.      J.  H.  M. 


I,  who  formerly,  a  wild  pear-tree,  bare  bastard  fruit 
in  thickets,  a  stump  in  the  wild-beast-feeding  desert,  do 
now,  on  being  grafted  with  foreign  shoots,  flourish  a 
cultivated  tree,  bearing  on  our  [joint]  branches  a  burden 

>  On  the  wooden  horse  made  by  the  Greeks  and  drawn  into  Troy,  see 
Virgil  Mil  ii. 


not  mine  own.  Much  thanks  to  the  grafter,  for  thy  pains. 
By  thee  ^  I,  the  wild  pear,  am  ranked  among  fruitful  trees. 


O  man,^  forbear  to  cut  [down]  the  mother  of  acorns, 
forbear !  but  cut  up  the  aged  fir  or  pine,  or  this  many- 
stemmed  thorn  or  holm,  or  the  withered  arbutus.  But 
keep  the  axe  far  from  the  oak ;  for  our  forefathers  have 
told  us  that  the  mothers  of  former  times  were  oaks.' 

A  baneful  adder  struck  the  full  nursing  udder  of  a 
doe,  newly  a  mother,  swelling  [with  milk].  A  fawn 
drew  the  poisoned*  teat,  and  sucked  from  the  deadly 
wound  the  unhealthy  bitter  milk.  They  exchanged 
death,^  and  instantly,  by  an  unpitying  fate,  the  teat  took 
away  the  delight  that  the  womb  had  given. 

Mayest  thou  neither  be  lifted  up  by  the  noisy^ 
[wingj^  of  much-possessing  Fortune,  nor  may  care  wear 
down  thy  freedom.  For  all  life  is  tossed  by  unsteady^ 
breezes,  continually  dragged  by  changes  hither  and 
thither.  But  virtue  is  something  steady  and  without 
turning :  upon  which  alone  do  thou  with  courage  sail 
over  the  waves  of  life  ? 

Be  not  elate  with  Fortune's  whirling  gale, 
Nor  under  slavish  apprehensions  bend. 
Through  life,  athwart  the  shifting  winds  contend, 
And  with  incessant  change  its  course  assail.^ 

*  tivEKa  for  'iviKa,  generally,  **  for  the  sake  of,"  but  here,  by  thy  art, 
by  thee. 

*  &  *vep  for  &  avipt  voc.  of  &vr^p.    Ivrl  is  Doric  for  il<n, 

'  So  Virgil  iEn.  viii.  316,  "Gensque  vinim  truncis  et  duro  robore 
nata :  **  and  Juvenal  Sat.  vL  12,  "  homines,  qui  rupto  robore  nati — ^nullos 
habuere  parentes." 

^  lofiLyrjf  from  ibc,  poison,  and  /i£y w/ic,  to  mix.    x^P*^>  h^*^* 

*  Jacobs  explains  ^driv  rfXXdKavTO  by  "  they  made  an  exchange,  as  re- 
gards death ; "  for  the  doe  was  saved,  ihe  fawn  destroyed. 

"  pol^oQ  is,  literally,  the  noise  made  by  the  wings  of  a  bird  when  flying.« 


Virtue  alone  is  firm  and  changeless ;  she 

Will  bear  thee  o'er  life's  surges  gallantlj.      H.  W. 


Kind  is  Hermes^  O  shepherds^  and  pleased  when  a 
libation  is  made  with  milk  and  honey  from  the  oak. 
But  not  [so  is]  Hercules.  He  demands  one  ram,  or  a 
fat  lamb,  and  selects  one  sacrifice  wholly  for  himself. 
But  he  keeps  oflT  wolves.  But  what  matters  it,  if  what 
is  guarded  perish  by  wolves  or  by  the  guardian  ? 

To  shepherds  kind  is  Hermes,  when  they  pour 

An  offering  of  milk,  or  honey'd  store. 

Not  Hereides  so.    A  great  demand  he  makes, 

And  ram  or  fatten'd  lamb  selecting  takes. 

Yet  wolves  he  wards  off.     What  then  is  the  gain  ? 

Me  of  my  fiock  the  wolves  or  watchman  drain.     G.  B. 

Thou,  Attic  maiden,  honey-fed,  hast  chirping  seized 
a  chirping  Cicada,  and  bearest  it  to  thy  unfledged 
young,  thou  a  twitterer  the  twitterer,  thou  the  winged 
the  well-winged,  thou  a  stranger  the  stranger,  thou  a 
summer  [bird]  the  summer  [msect].  WHt  thou  not 
quickly  throw  it  away  ?  For  it  is  not  right,  it  is  not  just, 
diat  those  engaged  in  song  should  perish  by  the  mouths 
of  those  engaged  in  song. 

Honey-nurtured  Attic  maiden. 

Wherefore  to  thy  brood  dost  wing 
With  the  shrill  Cicada  laden  ? 

'Tis  like  thee  a  prattling  thing. 
'Tis  a  sojourner  and  stranger,  * 

And  a  summer-child,  like  thee ; 
'Tis,  like  thee,  a  winged  ranger 

Of  the  air's  immensity. 
From  thy  bill  this  instant  fling  her ; 

'Tis  not  proper,  just,  or  good, 
That  a  little  ballad-singer 

Should  be  kiU'd  for  singer's  food.         G.  C.  S. 



A  hen  acting  as  a  nurse,  being  sprinkled  with  wintrjr 
snows,  kept  her  cradling  wings  around  her  young,  until 
the  frost  of  the  sky  killed  her ;  for  she  continued  stn^- 
gling  against  the  air  and  the  dreadful  clouds.  Frocn^ 
and  Medea  in  Hades,  be  ashamed,  [you]  mothers !  taught 
bjr  the  deeds  of  birds. 

When  winter's  snow  in  beating  storm  descends, 
Her  callow  brood  the  mother  bird  defends ; 
Her  fostering  wings  their  tender  limbs  embrace, 
Till  froze  to  death,  she  still  retains  her  place. 
In  Pluto's  realms,  amidst  th'  illustrious  dead, 
Blush,  Procne,  blush ;  Medea,  hide  your  head ; 
While  a  poor  bird,  by  nature  taught  alone, 
To  save  her  youngling's  lives  pour'd  out  her  own. 


If  an  army  is  raised  against  grasshoppers,  or  dog-flies, 
or  mice,  or  the  cavalry  of  fleas  or  of  frogs,  [then,]  Caius, 
fear  thou,  lest  some  one  enrol  thee  also,  as  being  worthy 
of  flghting  against  them.  But  if  an  army  of  men  oi  courage 
is  raised,  fear  not;  to  the  Romans  there  is  no  war  with- 


A  lethargic  person  and  a  madman  lying  in  a  com- 
mon tent,  £cove  away  disease  from  each  other.  For  the 
man,  daring  from  madness,  leaped  from  his  bed,  and  beat 
the  man  who  had  no  feeling  through  every  limb.  The 
blows  became  a  cure  to  both ;  since  by  them  the  one  was 
wakened,  and  great  labour  threw  the  other  into  sleep. 


A  king  wished  to  send  thee  again,  wealthy  Tatianus, 
as  a  helper  to  cities  exhausted,  their  people  being  in 
want.  But  thou  preferrest  in  the  calm  of  life  to  keep  to 
thy  native   country,  and  thine  inheritance,  increasing 


the  just  possession  of  thy  ancestors ;   for  justice,  sharing 
thy  throne,  knows  that  tnou  hatest  the  wealth  of  subjects. 


Envy,  according  to  Pindar,  is  better  than  pity.  The 
envied  enjoy  a  brilliant  life ;  But  we  pity  the  greatly  un- 
fortunate. But  may  I  be  neither  greatly  prosperous, 
nor  pitied.  For  mediocrity  ^  is  best ;  since  lofty  situa- 
tions naturally  bring  on  damgers,  and  the  lowest  have 

Pity,  says  the  Theban  bard, 

From  my  wishes  I  discard ; 

Envy,  let  me  rather  be, 

Rather  far,  a  theme  for  thee. 

Pity  to  distress  is  shown ; 

Envy  to  the  great  alone. 

So  the  Theban.    But  to  shine 

Less  conspicaons  be  mine. 

I  prefer  the  gdden  mean. 

Pomp  and  penury  between. 

For  alarm  and  peril  wait 

Ever  on  the  loftiest  state ; 

And  the  lowest  to  the  end 

Obloquy  and  scorn  attend.        W.  C. 

Still  do  we  hear  the  lament  of  Andromache;  still  do 
we  see  Troy  falling  from  its  foundation  all  into  ruins, 
and  [we  hear]  the  bustle  of  Ajax,  and  [see]  Hector 
bound  and  dragged  by  horses  beneath  the  parapet  of 
the  city,  through  the  Muse  of  Mseonides;*  whom  not 
one  country  [only]  honours  as  a  bard,  but  the  climes  of 
both  lands  [Europe  and  Asia}. 

Troy  from  its  base  all  tott'ring  still  we  see ; 
Stilt  hear  thy  wail,  Andrmnuache ; 

'  The  neuter  dpiarov  is  used  as  an  abstract  noun  with  the  fern.  /iiir6rrie. 
So  in  Virgil,  "  Dulce  satis  humor." 
*  Maeonides,  i.  e.  Homer. 



See  Ajax  toil,  and  Hector  dragged  beneath 
The  high  embattled  wreath, 
That  girds  the  city  round, 
To  war-steeds  bound. 
Through  Homer's  Muse ;  whom  not  one  land  alone 
Boasts ;  for  the  world  declares  the  bard  her  own. 

E.  S. 
Still  of  Andromache  the  wail  we  hear ; 

Still  see  Troy's  towers  levell'd  with  the  ground, 
And  Ajax  labour ;  still  we  drop  the  tear 

For  Hector  dragg'd  by  steeds  the  walls  around, 
Through  Homer's  verses ;  who's  of  all  the  earth 
The  pride ;  no  single  clime  may  claim  his  birth.     G.  B. 


I,  who  formerly  trickled  with  sweet  and  clear  streams, 
[am]  now  poor  in  [deserted  by]  the  Nymphs,  even  to  a 
drop;  for  a  murderer  washed  in  my  fount  his  gory 
hands,  mingling  his  defilement  with  my  waters.  Since 
then,  my  Nymphs  have  fled  to  the  Sun,  saying, "  We,  the 
Nymphs,  are  mingled  with  Bacchus  only,  not  vrith  Mars." 

Erewhile  my  gentle  streams  were  wont  to  pour 

Along  their  banks  a  pure  translucent  tide  ; 

But  now  their  waves  are  shrunk,  and  channel  dried. 

And  every  Njmph  knows  the  loved  haunt  no  more  ; 

Since  that  sad  moment  when  my  verdant  shore 

Was  with  the  crimson  hue  of  murder  dyed. 

To  cool  the  sparkling  heat  of  wine  we  glide. 

But  shrink  abhorrent  from  the  stain  of  gore.    J.  H.  M. 


O  strangers,  me,  the  much-bruited  city,  sacred  Ilium, 
formerly  famed  for  well-towered  walls,  have  the  ashes  of 
time  eaten  down  [destroyed].  But  in  Homer  do  I  lie, 
having  a  defence  of  brazen  gates.  Not  again  shall  the 
Troy-destroying  shears  of  the  Greeks  dig  me  [down] ; 
but  I  shall  lie  [be]  in  the  mouth  of  all  the  Greeks. 


Time's  ashes,  on  mj  turrets  shed. 

Have  worn  their  pride  away. 
I  was  that  Bion  of  whom  men  have  read 

In  Homer's  living  lay. 
No  more  shall  Argive  sword  and  spear 

Mj  brazen  bulwark  shake ; 
But  in  the  voice  of  nations  loud  and  clear 

My  monument  I  make.  C.  M. 

O  Hector,  thou  martial  blood,  if  perchance  beneath 
the  earth  thou  hearest,  hail !  and  breathe  again  a  short 
time  for  thy  country.  Hion  is  inhabited^  the  famous  city, 
possessing  men  weaker  indeed  than  thee,  but  still  war- 
loving  ;  but  the  Myrmidons  have  perished.  Stand  near 
to  Achilles,  and  say  that  the  whole  of  Thessaly  lieg^ 
under  the  descendants  of  jEneas.^ 

Hector,  brave  heart,  if  still  thy  spirit  hears, 

O  list,  and  stay  awhile  thy  patriot  tears. 

Troy  stands  a  noble  city ;  and  in  war 

Her  sons,  though  weak  to  thee,  still  valiant  are. 

The  Myrmidons  are  gone.     To  Achilles  say — 

JEneas'  offspring  all  Thessalia  sway.  G.  S, 


It  is  not  to  compose  in  a  manner  worthy  of  envy  and 
cleverly,  to  speak  words  with  a  spurious  mark^  and  five 
Attic*  For  even  if  you  say  ^Kapxaipe  and  Kovafiet  and 
2/f6i  and  KeXapv^e,^  you  Will  not  become  forthwith  a 
Homer.     It  is  necessary  for  a  meaning  to  lie  under  the 

*  The  Romans,  who  traced  their  origin  to  Mneaa, 

^  The  word  vap&oriiioQ  was  especially  applied  to  base  coin,  stamped 
with  an 'improper  mark. 

'  What  are  the  five  Attic  words  alluded  to  it  is  not  easy  to  state. 
There  is  some  error  here  which  it  were  easy  to  correct 

* — *  The  four  Homeric  verbs  here  mentioned  are  all  descriptive  of  dif- 
ferent kinds  of  sound.  Thus  Kapxaiptiv  is  "  to  snarl "  as  a  dog ;  KovafieXv, 
"  to  rattle/*  as  armour  does  when  thrown  on  the  ground ;  oiUhv,  *'  to 
hiss,"  as  heated  iron  does  when  put  into  water ;  and  K<Xapv^€cv,  "  to 
gurgle,"  as  a  stream  does  when  running  over  pebbles. 

¥  2 


letters^  and  the  expression  to  be  more  of  a  common  kind^ 
so  that  a  person  may  understand  what  you  are  saying. 

Fly,  O  Aristarchffians,  to  Greece,  upon  the  wide  back 
of  the  sea,  more  timid  than  the  fallow  deer.  O  ye  book- 
worms hid  in  a  comer/  fond  of  monosyllables,  who  care 
for  <T0«v,  ff0wi/,  fuv,  and  viVy  may  this  happen  to  you,  sent 
away  with  a  bad  wish.  But  to  Herodicus  may  Greece 
always  remain,  and  Babylon,  child  of  the  gods. 


Having  drawn  out  the  volume  of  instruction  from  my 
time,*  do  thou  know  the  stories  of  past  generations. 
Neither  look  into  the  page  of  Homer,  nor  into  the 
elegiac  nor  the  tragic  Muse,  nor  into  lyrical  song-^ 
writings,  nor  seek  me  much-chattering  verses  of  the 
Cyclic  [poets] ;  but  looking  into  me,  you  will  find  in  me 
all  that  the  world  possesses. 

A  boy  saw  a  coffin,  still  containing  the  fragments  of 
his  dead  ancestors,  dragged  along  by  a  torrent.  And 
grief  filled  him  with  boldness,  and  he  leaped  into  the 
shameless  water.  But  he  came  to  a  sad  assistance.  For 
he  saved  indeed  the  bones  from  the  water ;  but  in  their* 
place  he  was  himself  destroyed  by  the  violent  stream. 


O  Heraclitus,  weep  at  this  life  much  more  than  when 
you  were  alive ;  life  is  now  more  pitiable.  O  Democri- 
tus,  forthwith  laugh  at  this  life  more  than  before ;   life 

'  This  seems  to  be  the  most  intelligible  yersion  of  yiavtopSfiPviug.  See 
Jacobs'  note. 

*  ApoUodorus  wrote  a  work  called  BifiXtoOj^Kti :  in  which  an  account 
is  given  of  a  great  many  persons  mentioned  in  the  writings  of  different 

'  From  my  time  upwards. 


is  now  more  ridiculous  than  any  thing  else.  But  I  myself, 
looking  at  you,  am  thinking  earnestly  between  you  both, 
how  I  shall  weep  with  you,  how  I  shall  laugh  with  you. 
Weep,  Heraclitus,  more  than  when  alive ; 

For  life  is  now  more  piteous  than  before. 
More  than  of  old  yoursdf  to  laughter  giye^ 
Democritus ;  the  times  ask  laughter  more. 
Looking  to  both  a  medium  care  1 11  try, 
How  I  may  laugh  with  one,  with  th'  other  cry.     G.  B. 

Some  one  catching  fish  from  the  shore  with  a  hook  and 
a  stout  line,  dragged  the  bald  head  of  a  shipwrecked 
person.  And  pitying  the  dead  without  a  body,  and  dig- 
ging with  a  hand  without  iron,  he  heaped  up  a  slight 
tomb,  and  found  a  hidden  treasure  of  gold.  Truly  in- 
deed the  kindness  of  piety  is  not  lost  upon  just  men. 


A  crow  once  moving  his  black  wing  in  the  all-shining 
air,  saw  a  scorpion  leaping  from  the  earth,  and  grasping  it 
raised  it  on  high ;  who  not  slowly  wounded  with  a 
sharp  sting  the  claw  of  him  [the  bird]  hastening  towards 
the  ground,  and  de]prived  him  of  life.*  See  how  he 
wretched  received  from  him  [the  scorpion]  the  death 
which  he  himself  had  prepared  for  anouier. 

Alcon  a  father,  on  seeing  his  child  just  being  throttled 
by  a  deadly  serpent,  bent  his  bow  with  a  fearful  hand ;  but 
he  did  not  miss  the  animal ;  for  the  arrow  rushed  through 
its  mouth  just  above  his  Uttle  child.  And  having 
ceased  from  the  murder,  he  placed  by  this  oak  his  quiver, 
as  a  sign  of  his  good  fortune  and  good  aim. 


To  thee,  king  of  the  sea,  and  ruler  of  the  earth,  I,  Cran- 
tus,  oflfer  up  in  return  a  ship,  no  longer  wetted,  a  ship,  the 

'  Archias  had  eTidently  in  mind  the  celebrated  passage  in  Horn.  II. 
xiL  200—7. 


wing  of  far-roaming  winds,  upon  which  many  times  I, 
in  fear,  have  thought  myself  to  be  driven  to  Hades.  But 
having  dismissed  every  fear,  hope,  sea,  whirlwinds,  I 
have  placed  upon  the  earth  this  mark  to  be  trusted. 


Lais,  after  being  destroyed  as  to  her  beautiful  figure 
by  time,  hates  the  evidence  of  old  wrinkles.  Thence  dis- 
liking the  bitter  conviction  of  her  mirror,  she  has  offered 
it  up  to  the  mistress  of  her  former  beauty.  And  [says], 
"O  Venus,  receive  the  disk^  [mirror],  the  companion  of 
my  youth,  since  your  beauty  has  no  fear  of  time." 

Lais,  when  time  had  spoil'd  her  wonted  grace, 
Abhorr'd  the  look  of  age  that  plough'd  her  face. 
Her  glass,  sad  monitor  of  charms  decay'd, 
Before  the  queen  of  lasting  bloom  she  laid — 
"  The  loved  companion  of  my  youthful  years 
Be  thine  " — she  said ;  "  no  change  thy  beauty  fears." 



Once  Eurotas  said  to  Venus — "  Either  take  up  arms,  or 
go  out  from  Sparta;  the  city  is  maddening  to  be  in  arms.*' 
But  she,  smiling  softly,  said — "  I  will  always  be  without 
armour,  and  will  inhabit  Lacedaemon."  And  Venus  in- 
deed is  without  armour ;  but  the  shameless  historians  say 
that  the  goddess  bears  armour  for  us. 


Behold  the  labour  of  the  painting  of  Apelles,  Venus 
rising  lately  from  her  mother,  the  Sea;  how  after 
seizing  with  her  hand  her  hair  wet  with  water,  she 
squeezes  the  foam  from  the  wet  ringlets.  Now  Minerva 
and  Juno  themselves  will  say  ^ — *^  We  no  longer  enter  into 
a  contest  with  you  about  beauty." 

*  The  mirror  was  round  Kke  a  quoit,  SiaKoc,  from  whence  comes  the 
English  '*  disk,"  applied  to  the  face  of  the  full  moon,  or  sun. 
'  Ipcciv  has  always  a  future  sense. 


Triumph  and  boast  of  Grecian  painter's  art, 

From  Ocean's  foam  see  new-bom  Venus  start. 

Oh,  with  what  grace  she  waves  her  hand  of  pearl. 

And  wrings  the  dew  from  every  clust'ring  curl ! 

Let  Pallas  now  and  Juno's  self  confess 

'Twere  vain  contending  with  such  loveliness.     J.  W.  B. 


I  was  weeping  for  the  death  of  my  wife  Theono^ ;  but 
was  groaning  with  lighter  sorrow  from  the  hopes  of  my 
child.  But  now  some  jealous  Fate  has  separated  me  from 
my  child  likewise.  Alas!  I  have  been  cheated,  O  baby, 
of  you  too  left  behind.  O  Proserpine,  hear  this  in  the 
lamentations  of  a  father,  place  my  child  on  the  bosom  of 
its  departed  mother. 

I  wept  Theonoe's  loss ;  but  one  fair  child 

Its  father's  heart  of  half  its  woe  beguiled. 

And  now,  sole  source  of  hope  and  solace  left, 

That  one  fair  child  the  envious  Fates  have  reft. 

Death !  hear  a  father's  prayer,  and  lay  to  rest 

My  little  one  on  its  lost  mother's  breast.  6.  S. 


Antigenes,  of  Gelos,  once  spoke  this  word  to  his 
daughter,  when  he  was  ^  nodding  over  the  grave  ^ — "  O 
fair-cheeked  girl,  and  my  daughter,  retain  your  working 
spindle,  a  sufficient  possession  for  a  poor  life.  But  u 
you  come  to  a  marriage,  preserve  the  correct  conduct  of 
your  Achaean  mother,  the  most  lasting  dowry  to  a  hus- 

When  now  departing  to  the  silent  dead, 

These  words  Antigenes  of  Grela  said : 

"  Fair  daughter,  keep  the  distaff  at  your  side, 

A  livelihood,  though  small :  and,  if  a  bride, 

Keep  to  your  mother's  virtues ;  they  will  prove 

The  surest  dow'r  to  win  a  husband's  love."    H.  W. 

>— >  The  phrase  in  English  would  be,  "  with  one  foot  in  the  grave.** 



A.  Say,  shepherd,  whose  are  the  rows  of  plants  ?  B. 
Some  are  olives  sacred  to  Minerva;  but  the  vines  round 
are  [sacred]  to  Bacchus.  A,  And  whose  are  the  ears  of 
com  ?  B.  Ceres'.  A.  Of  what  deities  are  the  flowers  ? 
B.  (yi  Juno  and  rosy  Venus.  ^  0  dear  Pan,  stop  draw- 
ing your  pipe  upon  your  lips ;  for  you  are  seeking  Echo 
in  these  sun-shine  places.^ 


O  Sosicrates,  being  rich  you  were  in  love,  but  being 
poor,  you  no  longer  love.  What  a  remedy  is  hunger ! 
And  she  who  formerly  called  you  mvrrh  and  beautiful 
Adonis,  now  asks  your  name — ^^  Who  f  from  what  [coun- 
try] are  you?  where  is  your  city  ?  "  You  know  with  diffi- 
culty truly  this  saying,  that  no  one  is  a  friend  to  him 
that  has  nothing. 

Rich,  thou  hadst  many  lovers ;    poor,  hast  none ; 

So  surely  want  extinguishes  the  flame. 
And  she,  who  call'd  thee  once  her  pretty  one, 

And  her  Adonis,  now  inquires  thy  name — 
"  Where  wast  thou  born,  Sosicrates  ?  and  where. 

In  what  strange  country,  can  thy  parents  live  ?  " 
Who  seem'st,  by  thy  complaints,  not  yet  aware, 

That  want 's  a  crime  no  woman  can  forgive.     W. '  C. 

When  rich,  Sosicrates,  thou  hadst  many  loves ; 

Now  poor,  none  hast  thou.     Oh  how  hunger  proves 

A  cure  for  passion  !     She  who  call'd  thee  erst 

Her  sweetest  mjrrrh,  and  dear  Adonis,  durst 

Now  ask  thy  name — "  Who,  and  whence  art  thou  flown  ? 

And  where 's  thy  country  V*     This  at  last  is  known. 

Who  nothing  has,  none  as  a  friend  will  own.  6.  B. 

*— *  The  words  between  the  numerals  seem  to  belong  to  another  Epi- 
gram ;  in  which  Pan  was  represented  as  playing  upon  his  pipe,  while  in 
search  of  his  mistress  Echo. 

westmhister  selection.  73 


I  send  to  you,  Bhodoclea,  this  garland,  hayine 
woven  it  myself  by  my  own  hands  with  beautifid 
flowers.  There  is  a  lily,  and  a  bud  of  roses,  and  the  wet 
anemony,  and  flexile  narcissus,  and  dark-blue  violet. 
But  do  you,  wreathing  them,  cease  to  be  arrogant.  You 
are  in  flower ;  and  you  cease  to  be  so,  as  well  as  the  gar- 

This  garland  intertwined  with  fragrant  flowers, 
Pluck'd  by  my  hand,  to  thee,  my  love,  I  send. 
Pale  lilies  here  with  blushing  roses  blend. 
Anemone,  besprent  with  April  showers, 
Love-lorn  Narcissus,  violet  that  pours 
From  every  purple  leaf  the  glad  perfume  ; 
And,  while  upon  thy  sweeter  breast  they  bloom, 
Yield  to  the  force  of  love  thy  passing  hours ; 
For  thou,  like  these,  must  fade  at  Nature's  general  doom. 

J.  H.  M. 
I  send  thee,  my  fair  one,  this  garland  of  flowers, 

And  wove  it  myself  for  you. 
There  are  lilies  and  buds  from  the  rosy  bowers, 

And  the  wind-flower  steep'd  in  dew. 
And  the  languid  Narciss,  and  the  purple  shine 

Of  the  violet  in  the  glade : 
So  wear  them,  and  cease  to  be  haughty  and  fine, 
For  thou  bloom'st,  as  the  wreath,  to  fade. 

G.  F.  D.  T. 


O  Argos,  O  story  of  Homer,  and  sacred  soil  of  Greece, 
and  the  formerly  golden  citadel  of  Perseus,  ye  have  ex- 
tinguished the  glory  of  those  heroes  ^  who  once  tore 
down  to  the  earth  the  god-built  crown  of  Troy.  But 
this  city  is  stronger.  But  you,  who  are  fallen,  snow  the 
folds  of  loud-bellowing  cattle. 

*  As  lofiktraro,  the  1  aor.  mid.,  is  not  found  in  Greek,  and  if  it  were  it 
would  not  suit  the  sense,  J.  Scaliger  su^ested  itrPiffB*,  i.  e.  i<rp£<TTOf  and 
then  the  sense  would  be,  **  the  glory  of  those  heroes  has  been  extia- 



You  dye  your  head ;  but  you  will  not  dye  your  old 
age,  nor  will  you  stretch  out  the  wrinkles  of  your  cheeks. 
Do  not  then  plaister  the  whole  of  your  face  with  paint, 
so  that  you  have  a  mask  and  not  a  face.  For  it  is  of  no 
use.  Why  are  you  mad?  A  paint  and  wash  will  never 
make  Hecuba  a  Helen. 

Yes — ^you  may  change  your  hair,  but  not  your  age, 

Nor  smooth,  alas  !  the  wrinkles  of  your  face  ; 
Yes — ^you  may  varnish  o'er  the  tell-tale  page, 

And  wear  a  mask  for  every  vanish'd  grace  : 
But  there's  an  end.     No  Hecuba  by  aid 
Of  rouge  and  ceruse  is  a  Helen  made.  J.  H.  M. 

You  give  your  cheeks  a  rosy  stain, 

With  washes  dye  your  hair  ; 
But  paint  and  washes  both  are  vain 

To  give  a  youthful  air. 
Those  wrinkles  mock  your  daily  toil, 

No  labour  will  efface  'em  ; 
You  wear  a  mask  of  smoothest  oil, 
Yet  still  with  ease  we  trace  %m. 
An  art  so  fruitless  then  forsake, 

•  Which  though  you  much  excel  in, 
You  never  can  contrive  to  make 

Old  Hecuba  young  Helen.  W.  C. 


Rhodop^,  Melit^,  Ehodoclea,  contended  with  one  an- 
other which  of  the  three  had  the  most  warlike  beauty ; 
and  they  chose  me  as  a  judge ;  and  they  stood  as  god- 
desses, gazed  at  from  all  sides,  wanting  nectar  alone. 
But  clearly  knowing  what  Paris  through  his  judgment 
suffered,  I  straightway  put  crowns  upon  the  three  immor- 
tals together. 


Lo !  the  brazen  beaks,  the  forms  of  ships  sail-loving, 
witnesses  of  the  war  at  Actium ;  [there]  the  wax-nour- 


ished  gifts  of  bees  are  hived,  pressed  on  all  sides  by  the 
buzzing  swarm.  [This  is]  the  agreeable  benefit  of  Caesar's 
good  laws ;  for  he  has  taught  the  arms  of  his  enemies  to 
produce  in  return  the  fruits  of  peace. 


Being  distressed  by  age  and  poverty,  and  not  a  single 
man  holding  out  a  contribution  for  misfortune,  I  went 
quietly  under  the  tomb  with  trembling  limbs,  and  found 
with  difficulty  the  end  of  a  wretched  life.  But  the 
custom  of  the  dead  was  altered  in  my  case.  For  I  did 
not  die  first,  and  then  was  buried,  but,  after  I  was 
buried,  I  died. 

By  years  and  misery  worn,  no  hand  to  save 

With  some  poor  pittance  from  a  desperate  grave ; 

With  the  small  strength  my  wretched  age  supplied, 

I  crawFd  beneath  this  lonely  pile  and  died. 

Screened  from  the  scoff  of  pride,  and  grandeur's  frown, 

In  this  sad  spot  I  laid  my  sufferings  down : 

Reversed  the  laws  of  death,  the  common  doom. 

And,  while  the  life-blood  flow'd,  subom'd  my  tomb.     Bl. 


One  ship  of  life  and  death  has  brought  the  son  of 
Hierocles  within,  having  obtained  a  common  duty.  It 
maintained  him  a  fisherman;  it  burnt  him  when  dead; 
sailing  with  him  for  a  draught  of  fish,  sailing  with  him 
to  Hades.  The  happy  fisherman  sailed  upon  the  sea  in 
his  own  ship,  and  ran  with  his  own  ship  to  Hades. 


This  is  the  sea-side  tomb  of  Archilochus,  who  for- 
merly dipt  the  bitter  Muse  in  viper-like  anger,  after 
covering  with  blood  the  gentle  Hejicon.  Lycambes 
knew  it,  lamenting  the  knots  *  of  his  three  daughters. 

>  By  Hfifiara  Jacobs  understands  the  knots  in  the  ropes  with  which  the 
daughters  hanged  themselves. 


Pass  by  him  gently,  traveller,  lest  perchance  you  excite 
the  wasps  settling  upon  the  tomb  of  this  man. 

Although  a  tearful  fate  has  seized  you,  Euripides, 
and  the  wolf-worrying  dogs  have  made  a  meal  of  you, 
who  were  the  musical  songster  on  the  stage,  the  ornament 
of  Athens,  and  who  mingled  tragic  grace  with  wisdom, 
still  you  have  gone  to  a  rellean  cenotaph,  in  order  that 
you,  the  servant  of  the  Pierides  [Muses],  might  dwell 
near  the  Pierides. 


All  Greece  is  indeed  the  monument  of  Euripides ;  but 
his  bones  the  land  of  Macedon  hold,  where  he  obtained 
the  end  of  life.  But  Athens,  the  Greece  of  Greece,  is  his 
country;  and  he  having  pleased  by  his  Muse  very  much, 
has  tliM  praise  from  many  also — ^^  This  is  not  your  monu- 
ment, Euripides;  but  you  are  the  monument  of  this.  For 
this  monument  is  clothed  in  our  glory." 

Some  one  told  me  of  your  fate,  O  Heraclitus,  and  it 
brought  a  tear  to  me ;  and  I  remembered  how  often  we 
both  ^made  the  sun  to  set  in  talking.^     But  you  are  some 
where,  O  stranger  of  Halicarnassus,  ashes  four  ancient- 
ly;^ but  your  songs  live ;  upon  which  Hades,  the  snatcher 
of  every  thing,  shall  not  throw  his  hand. 
They  told  me,  Heraclitus,  thou  wert  dead ; 
And  then  I  thought,  and  tears  thereon  did  shed, 
How  oft  we  two  talk'd  down  the  sun ;  but  thou, 
Halicarnassian  guest,  art  ashes  now  ! 
Yet  live  thy  nightingales  of  song.     On  those 
Forgetfulness  her  hand  shall  ne'er  impose.        H.  N.  C. 

* — *  Menage  quotes  opportunely  Virgil  Eel.  ix.  52,  **  cantando — memini 
me  condere  soles.*' 

*  In  lieu  of  the  unintelligible  TtrpaTraXai,  Menage  and  Wakefield 
suggested  rl^pa  re  Kai — similar  to  "  et  cineres  et  favillas  *'  in  Minucius 
Felix.  But  as  TS(l>pa  could  hardly  have  the  a  short,  Menage  subsequently 
defended  rerpaTroXat  by  quoting  Aristoph.  'Iir^r.  1150,  TpcTroXac  KaOijfiai, 



I  do  not  know  whether  I  shall  call  vou  a  shield^  with 
whom  as  a  faithful  ally  I  armed  myself  against  many  ad- 
versaries, or  whether  a  small  sea-boat  for  me,  which  con- 
veyed me  swimming  from  the  sunk  ship  to  the  shore. 
I  have  escaped  in  wars  the  wrath  of  Mars,  and  of  Nereus 
in  the  sea,  and  you  truly  were  my  armour  in  both. 


Whoever  thou  art,  who  bringest  thy  foot  by  mv  tomb, 
know  that  I  am  a  son  of  Callimachus  and  a  father.*  You 
may  know  both.  One  formerly  commanded  the  arms  of 
his  country;  the  other  sang  what  is  superior  to  envy. 
There  is  no  Nemesis  [for  such  a  boast] ;  for  upon  whom- 
soever of  their  children  the  Muses  look  ^  with  their  eye 
until  life,^  they  do  not  discard  their  friends  when  they 
become  hoary. 


The  stone-cutter  Architeles  raised,  with  miserable 
hands,  a  tomb  to  his  deceased  child  Agathonor.  Alas ! 
alas !  for  the  stone,  which  iron  did  not  cut,  but  was  wasted 
away  wet  with  frequent  tears.*  Alas !  O  pillar,  remain, 
light  on  the  dead,  that  he  may  say — "  The  hand  of  my 
father  really  placed  a  stone  upon  me." 

' — ^  As  the  father  of  Callimachus  was  Battus,  and  not  Callimachus, 
Jacobs  says  that  the  poet  unites  the  praise  of  his  father  with  that  of  his 
grandfather  and  himself.  But  from  the  word  duijuii  it  is  eyident  that  only 
two  persons  were  intended,  the  grandfather  and  grandson ;  one  famed  as 
a  soldier,  the  other  as  a  poet.  There  is  therefore  some  error  in  vaUa  re 
Kid  ytvsrtiv,  which  it  would  not  be  perhaps  diffictdt  to  correct 

* — '  Since  the  Scholiast  on  Hesiod  Theogon.  offers  M^  Xo^&gt  in  lieu 
of  the  unintelligible  "Axpc  piovp  Bentley  saw  that  Callimachus  wrote 
oftfiari-fii^  Xo^tfi,  answering  to  "  placido  lumine  "  in  Horace,  and  in  the 
other  passages  produced  by  the  critics  to  whom  Jacobs  refers.  The  read- 
ing firi  Xo|^  is  adopted  in  the  Westm.  Collect.,  but  ^xpt  |3iov  retained  in 
the  Eton  Extracts. 

>  The  author  seems  to  allude  to  the  practice  of  stone-cutters  letting 
water  mixed  with  sand  trickle  down  the  stone  which  they  are  sawing. 
But  instead  of  water  Architeles  made  use  of  tears. 


The  stone-hewer  Architeles  uprears, 

Fashion'd  by  sorrowiDg  hands,  this  monument 

To  Agathonor,  his  departed  son. 
That  stone,  alas !  needed  no  chisel ;  tears, 

Fast-flowing  tears,  their  melting  streams  had  lent, 

To  wear  deep  characters  of  woe  thereon. 
Lie  light  upon  the  dead,  thou  stone ;  that  he 
May  own  a  father's  care  in  placing  thee.  H.  W. 

Clip  the  first  sweet  harvest  of  your  cheeks  on  this  day, 
and  the  young  tendrils  of  your  beard,  O  Caius;  and 
your  father  Lucius  will  receive  in  his  hand  your  prayed- 
for  first  growth  of  the  beard  which  is  about  to  increase 
during  many  a  sun.  They  present  you  with  golden 
[gifts],  but  I  with  joyous  elegiac  verses.  For  the  Muse 
is  not  worse  than  Plutus. 


Eumolpus  once  oflered  up  his  harp  to  Apollo  at  his 
tripod,  and,  blaming  his  aged  hand,  he  said — "  May  I 
never  .touch  again  the  lyre,  nor  let  me  wish  to  hear  the 
practice  of  its  former  harmony.  Let  the  string  of  the 
harp  be  a  care  to  youth ;  and  instead  of  the  quill  I  will 
be  supported  as  to  my  trembling  hands  with  a  stick." 

I  lie  sacred  to  Mars,  O  stranger,  a  stone  grievous  to 
the  Athenians,  the  symbol  of  the  courage  of  Philip ;  I 
insulting  Marathon  and  the  deeds  of  Salamis  near  the 
sea,  lying  under  Macedonian  spears.  Now,  Demos- 
thenes, swear  by  the  dead;  J  but  I  shall  be  grievous  both 
to  the  living  and  to  the  dead. 

O  country  Sparta,  we  the  three  hundred  afier  fighting 

>  The  writer  alludes  to  the  well-known  oath  of  Demosthenes  "  On  the 
Crown,"  §  60,  where  he  swears  by  those  who  hazarded  their  Htcs  at 
Marathon,  Platsea,  and  Salamis. 


about  Thurea  with  the  descendants  of  Inachus  ^of  equal 
number,  and  not  turning  our  necks  there  left  our  life  in 
the  place,  where  we  first  fitted  our  footsteps.  But  if 
any  one  of  the  Greeks  fled  his  fate,  he  was  [descended] 
from  Adrastus.*  But  it  is  not  death  in  Sparta  to  die,  but 
to  run  away. 

O  native  Sparta,  when  we  met  the  host 

In  equal  combat  from  th'  Inachian  coast, 

Thy  brave  three  hundred  never  tum'd  aside ; 

But  where  our  feet  first  rested,  there  we  died. 

[The  words  in  blood,  that  stout  Othryades 

Wrought  on  his  herald's  shield,  were  only  these— 

"  Thyrea  is  Lacedaemon's."]  ^     If  there  fled 

One  Argive  from  the  slaughter,  be  it  said, 

Of  old  Adrastus  he  has  learnt  to  fly ; 

We  count  it  death  to  falter,  not  to  die.  J.  H.  M. 


Behold  Hercules,  of  endless  toil,  your  labours,  which 
after  enduring,  you  went  to  Olympus,  the  house  of  the 
immortals,  [namely]  Geryon,  the  famed  apples,  the  great 
labour  of  Angelas,  the  horses,  Hippolyt^,  the  many-head- 
ed serpent,  the  boar,  the  roaring  dog  of  Chaos,  tne  wild 
beast  of  Nemeia,  the  birds,  the  bull,  the  stag  of  Moenalia. 


The  children  of  Neptune  and  Jupiter  exercised  their 
youth  for  the  prizes  of  strong  wrestling.  And  their  con- 
test lies  not  about  a  brazen  cauldron,  but  which  shall 
carry  oflf  life  or  death.  The  fall  is  of  Antaeus.  It  be- 
comes Hercules  the  son  of  Jupiter  to  conquer.  Wrest- 
ling belongs  to  the  Greeks,  not  the  Libyans. 

'  i.  e.  the  people  of  Argos,  of  which  Inachus  was  once  the  king. 

*  The  Adrastus  alluded  to  was  one  of  the  seven  Argive  chiefs  at  the 
siege  of  Thebes,  who  fled,  after  six  of  them  had  perished. 

»  The  words  within  brackets  answer  to  a  distich  in  the  original,  which 
is  omitted  in  the  Westm.  Collection.  The  circumstance,  to  which  the 
writer  alludes,  is  told  by  Herodotus,  i.  82,  and  by  Plutarch,  ii.  p.  306,  A. 


Two  wrestlers  here  their  youthful  vigour  prove, 

The  sour  of  Neptune  thi^  and  that  of  Jove. 

They  for  no  vase  of  bronze  contend ;  no  prize 

Is  set.     Whichever  lives,  the  other  dies. 

Antaeus  falls.     'Tis  Jove's  son,  Hercules, 

Must  win.   The  art 's  not  Libyan,  but  of  Greece.-  H.  W. 




O  strong  Hercules,  crush  the  very  large  dragon  folds ; 
throttle  the  deep  necks  of  the  biting  animals.  Even 
now,  an  infant,  stop  the  wrath  of  the  jealous  Juno. 
Know  also  how  to  toil  from  childhood.  For  neither  a 
bowl  of  beaten  brass,  nor  cauldrons,  but  a  road  to  the 
hall  of  Jupiter,  is  the  prize. 

O  Chaeronean  Plutarch,  the  sons  of  the  brave  Auso- 
nians  placed  this  much-celebrated  statue  of  you,  because 
you  fitted  by  parallel  lives  the  best  of  the  Greeks  to  the 
well-warring  inhabitants  of  Rome.  But  you  could  not 
write  another  life  parallel  to  your  own;  for  you  have 
not  one  like  it. 

Chaeronean  Plutarch,  to  thy  deathless  praise 
Does  martial  Bom^  this  grateful  statue  raise. 
Because  both  Greece  and  she  thy  fame  have  shared, 
Their  heroes  written  and  their  lives  compared. 
But  thou  thyself  could'st  never  write  thy  own ; 
Their  lives  have  parallels  ;  but  thine  has  none. 



Diogenes  the  Cynic,  having  come  to  Hades,  after  he 
had  finished  a  truly  wise  old  age,  saw  Croesus,  and 
laughed.  And  the  old  man,  having  spread  his  small 
cloak  near  to  him,  who  had  drawn  out  much  gold  from 
a  river,*  said — ^^  To  me  there  is  now  a  greater  place ; 
'  The  river  alluded  to  was  Pactolus  in  Lydia. 


for  whatever   I  had^  I  bring  all  with  me;   but  you^ 
Croesus,  have  nothing." 


If  you  love  me,  love  me  in  deed,  and  do  me  no  wrong, 
making  our  friendship  the  beginning  of  doing  an  injury ; 
for  I  assert  that  open  malice  is  much  better  for  all  men 
than  deceitful  friendship;  and  men  say  too  that  rocks 
under  the  sea  are  worse  than  conspicuous  rocks  for  sea- 
wandering  ships. 

Art  thou  my  friend — ^fOTbear  to  do  me  guile, 
Nor  clothe  a  secret  grudge  in  friendship's  smile  : 
For  traitorous  friendship  wounds  th'  unguarded  breast 
With  surer  aim  than  enmity  profess'd ; 
And  more  on  shoals  the  sailor  fears  to  wreck, 
Than  where  the  rocks  hang  frowning  o'er  his  deck. 



Milo  once  came  alone  as  a  wrestler  to  the  sacred  con- 
test, and  the  judge  straightway  called  to  crown  him;  but 
going  forward,  he  slipped  upon  his  hip,  and  persons 
bawled  out  not  to  crown  that  man,  since  he,  although 
alone,  had  fallen.  But  he  standing  up  in  the  middle, 
cried  out,  "  Are  there  not  three  [falls]  ?  In  one  I  have 
been  laid;  let  some  one  throw  me  the  others  to  come." 


Gently  over  the  tomb  of  Sophocles,  may  you,  0  ivy, 
gently  creep,  putting  forth  pale  tendrils ;  and  may  the 
rose-leaf  flourish  on  every  side,  and  the  grape-loving 
vine,  having  spread  out  its  flexible  boughs  all  around, 
on  account  of  the  skilful  and  excellent  learning  which 
he,  the  honeyed  [poet],  practised,  by  a  mingling  of  the 
Muses  and  the  Graces. 


Wind,  gentle  evergreen,  to  form  a  shade 
Around  the  tomb  where  Sophocles  is  laid ; 
Sweet  ivy,  lend  thine  aid,  and  intertwine 
With  blushing  roses  and  the  clustering  vine : 
Thus  shall  thy  lasting  leaves,  with  beauties  hung. 
Prove  grateful  emblems  of  the  lays  he  sung, 
Whose  soul,  exalted  like  a  god  of  wit,  * 
Among  the  Muses  and  the  Graces  writ. 

Anon.  Spectator. 



0  CHILD  of  impudence,  most  uneducated  offspring  of 
folly,  say,  why  do  you  swagger,  knowing  nothing  ?  You 
are  a  Platonist  among  the  grammarians.  But  if  one  ex- 
amines the  dogmas  of  Plato,  you  are  a  grammarian  again. 
You  fly  from  the  one  to  the  other;  and  you  neither 
know  the  art  of  grammar,  nor  are  you  a  Platonist. 
"  I  know  all  things,"  you  say ;  but  you  are  imperfect  in 
every  thing.  Having  a  smack  of  all  things,  you  have 
nothing  of  your  own. 


1  see  a  strange  kind  of  reeds.  Surely  they  have  shot  up 
rather  quickly  from  another  [strange]  brazen  ground ;  hor 
are  they  moved  by  our  wind,  but  a  gale  rushing  from  a 
bull-hide  cavern  [bellows],  travels  below  under  the  root 
of  well-bored  pipes.  And  some  powerful  man,  having 
quick  fingers  of  hand,  knows  how  to  handle  the  harmo- 
nizing lines  of  the  pipes.  And  they  leaping  squeeze 
out  a  soft  tune. 

Why,  O  shepherds,  do  you  drag  by  a  shameless  cap- 
ture from  dewy  boughs,  me  a  Cicada,  the  lover  of  soli- 


tude,  the  road-side  songster  of  the  Nymphs,  chirping 
shrilly  in  mid-day  heat  on  the  mountains,  and  in  the 
shady  groves,  fiehold  the  thrush  and  blackbird,  be- 
hold how  many  starlings  are  the  plunderers  of  field- 
abundance.  It  is  right  to  take  the  destroyers  of  fruits. 
Kill  them.  What  grudging  is  there  of  leaves  and 
grassy  dew? 

Why,  ruthless  shepherds,  from  the  dewy  spray, 

In  my  lone  haunt.  Cicada  tear  away  ? 

Me,  the  Nymphs'  way-side  minstrel,  whose  sweet  note 

O'er  sultry  hill  is  heard  and  shady  grove  to  float  ? 

Lo !  where  the  blackbird,  thrush,  and  greedy  host 

Of  starlings  fatten  at  the  farmer's  cost. 

With  just  revenge  these  ravagers  pursue ; 

But  grudge  me  not  a  leaf,  or  grassy  dew.         F.  We. 


O  traveller,  as  you  go  by,  do  not  blame  my  monument ; 
I  have  not,  even  when  dead,  any  thing  wordiy  of  lament- 
ations. I  have  left  children's  children,  and  have  en- 
joyed one  wife  of  the  same  old  age  with  myself.  I  have 
given  marriages  to  three  children,  of  whom  many  times  I 
have  borne  the  children  in  my  lap ;  nor  have  I  lamented 
the  disease  or  death  of  one  of  them ;  who  have  poured 
libations  on  me  unharmed,  and  have  sent  me  to  the 
country  of  the  pious  to  sleep  a  sweet  sleep. 

Think  not,  whoe'er  thou  art,  my  fate  severe  ; 
Nor  o'er  my  marble  stop  to  shed  a  tear  ! 
One  tender  partner  shared  my  happy  state, 
And  all  that  life  imposes,  but  its  weight. 
Three  lovely  girls  in  nuptial  ties  I  bound, 
And  children's  children  smiled  my  board  around, 
And,  often  pilloVd  on  their  grandsire's  breast, 
Their  darling  offspring  sunk  to  sweetest  rest. 
Disease  and  death  were  strangers  to  my  door, 
Nor  from  my  arms  one  blooming  infant  tore. 
All,  all  survived,  my  dying  eyes  to  close, 
And  hymn  my  spirit  to  a  blest  repose.  Bl. 

G  2 



Melitinna  heard  unexpected  news  that  her  son  had 
been  overwhehned  by  a  wave  bearing  him ;  and  she  un- 
happy saw  a  sea-washed  body  of  another  person^  that 
had  reached  the  sands,  the  symbol  of  her  own  fortune, 
and  she  bedecked  it,  as  if  it  were  her  own  son.  But 
Dion  came  safe  to  land  upon  an  unbroken  ship  from  a 
trafficking  voyage.  How  unequal  a  fate  did  the  mothers 
get  by  lot !  the  one  has  an  unexpected  living  body,  but 
the  other  will  not  see  even  the  corpse  [of  her  son]. 


I,  Hermocrateia,  after  bringing  forth  twenty  and  nine 
[children],  beheld  the  death  neither  of  one  son  nor  of 
one  daughter ;  for  Apollo  did  not  shoot  at  my  sons,  Diana 
did  not  take  my  daughters  mourning  heavily;  on  the 
contrary,  she  came,  and  released  my  pain  of  child-bed, 
and  Phoebus  led  the  males,  xmhurt  by  diseases,  to  youth. 
See  how  I  conquer  justly  with  my  children  and  tem- 
perate tongue  the  daughter  of  Tantalus. 


Letoius  and  Paulus  both,  being  brothers,  had  a  com- 
mon union  in  life ;  and  had  common  threads  of  fate,  and 
were  clothed  in  common  dust  near  the  shore  of  the  Bos- 
phorus ;  for  they  were  unable  to  live  apart  from  one 
another ;  but  they  ran  together  likewise  to  Proserpine. 
Farewell,  O  sweet  and  unanimous  ones.  An  altar  of 
Unanimity  ought  to  have  been  erected  over  your  tomb. 

Archippus  the  ploughman,  just  leaving  life  from  a 
heavy  disease,  and  going  to  Hades,  spoke  these  words  to 
his  sons — ^^  Oh !  my  dear  children,  be  content  with  my 
spade  and  ploughman's  life  ;  do  not  praise  the  groaning 
labour  of  the  dangerous  sea,  and  the  heavy  toil  of  rxiinous 
sailing.     As  much  as  your  mother  was  sweeter  than 


your  stepmother^  so  much  is  the  land  more  desirable 
than  the  sea  white  [with  foam]. 

Death  robbed  me  of  the  autumn  of  youth ;  and  the 
stone  has  concealed  me  in  this  tomb  of  my  grandfather. 
I  was  by  name  Rufinus,  the  son  of  -Stherius,  and  bom 
of  a  good  mother ;  but  I  was  bom  in  vain ;  for  atfter  reach- 
ing 3ie  highest  point  of  music  and  of  youth,  I  came,  alas, 
a  clever  person  to  Hades,  and  a  yoimg  one  to  darkness. 
O  traveller,  do  even  you,  seeing  these  letters,  lament 
greatly ;  for  surely  you  alive  are  either  a  son  or  a  father. 


I  lost  a  little  pig,  and  an  ox,  and  one  she-goat,  on  ac- 
count of  which  you,  Menecles,  have  received  a  small 
fee.  But  neither  has  any  thing  happened  in  common  to 
me  and  Othryades ;  neither  do  I  lead  away  persons  as 
thieves  from  Thermopylae ;  but  we  have  a  trial  against 
Eutychides ;  so  that  what  has  Xerxes  to  do  here  ?  and 
what  have  the  Lacedaemonians  ?  But  also  remember  me  on 
account  of  the  law ;  or  I  wiU  cry  out  loudly, — "  Menecles 
says  some  things,  the  litde  pigs  say  other  things."  ^ 



Well,  old  Lysippus,  Sicyonian  modeller,  hast  thou  done, 

in  maMng  an  image  of  the  Samian  .£sop,  and  placing 

him  in  the  front  of  the  Seven  Wise  Men;  since  they 

indeed  introduced  compulsion,  and  not  persuasion,  by 

their  words.     But  he,  by  saying  seasonable  things  in  wise 

speeches,  and  playing  in  earnest,  persuades  [people]  to 

be  sensible.   Now  sharp  counsel  is  a  thing  to  be  avoided ; 

but  the  sweetness  of  the  Samian  fable  has  a  pleasant  bait. 

>  With  Hob  Epigram  Erasmus,  quoted  by  Jacobs,  has  aptly  compared 
one  by  Martial  in  vi.  19.  From  the  two  it  appears  that  lawyers,  employed 
on  some  trifliag  suit,  were  accustomed  to  ma^e  a  long  speech,  and  by  lug- 
ging in  matter  not  to  the  purpose,  to  neglect  and  sometimes  lose  the 
cause  they  were  paid  to  adyocate. 


Well  done,  old  Sicyonian,  sculptor  famous, 
Well  hath  Lysippus  group'd  -^op  of  Samos^ 
Before  the  Sages  Seven,  whose  sayings  stem 
Oblige,  while  his  persuade,  wisdom  to  learn. 
By  tale  or  fiction  apt,  a  word  in  season 
Draws  us,  'twixt  pky  and  earnest,  back  to  reason. 
When  counsel  rude  we  'd  shun ;  with  bait  more  sure. 
The  pleasant  Samian's  fable  can  allure.  H.  W. 


I  will  speak  of  the  Seven  Wise  Men  with  respect  to 
their  saying,  city,  name,  voice.  Cleobulus  the  Lindian 
said.  Moderation  is  best.  But  Chilon  in  hollow  Lace- 
daemon  said.  Know  yourself.  But  Periander,  who  in- 
habited Corinth,  said.  Restrain  anger.  Pittacus,  whose 
family  was  of  Mitylene,  said.  Nothing  too  much.  But 
Solon  said,  in  holy  Athens,  Consider  the  end  of  life. 
But  Bias  of  Priene  declared.  The  majority  are  the  worse. 
But  Thales,  the  Milesian,  said.  Avoid  being  a  security. 


Erinna  was  of  few  words,  and  not  of  many  stories,  in 
songs;  but  these  little  words  obtained  for  her  the  Muses. 
Therefore  she  has  not  missed  a  remembrance ;  neither  is 
she  kept  under  the  dark  wing  of  black  night ;  but  we  the 
numberless  myriads  of  new  minstrels,  waste  away  in  ob- 
livion in  heaps.  The  little  lament  of  a  swan  is  more 
agreeable  than  the  cawing  of  jackdaws  uttered  in  the 

Few  were  thy  notes,  Erinna,  short  thy  lay ; 

But  thy  short  lay  the  Muse  herself  has  given  ; 
Thus  never  shall  thy  memory  decay. 

Nor  night  obscure  thy  fame,  which  lives  in  heaven  : 

While  we,  the  unnumber'd  bards  of  after-times. 

Sink  in  the  melancholy  grave  unseen ; 
Unhonour'd  reach  Avernus'  fabled  climes. 

And  leave  no  record  that  we  once  have  been. 


^weet  are  the  graceful  swan's  melodious  lays, 
Though  but  an  instant  heard,  and  then  thej  die ; 

But  the  long  chattering  of  discordant  jajs 
The  winds  of  April  scatter  through  the  sky. 

J.  H.  M. 


This  is  the  Lesbian  wax-tablet^  of  Erinna;  it  is 
something  sweet ;  a  little  thing,  but  wholly  mixed  with 
the  honey  of  the  Muses ;  and  the  three  hundred  verses 
of  her  are  equal  to  those  of  Homer ;  her,  the  maiden 
nineteen  years  old,  who  through  the  fear  of  her  mother 
stood  by  the  distaff,  or  at  the  loom,  a  servant  of  and  in- 
spired by  the  Muses.  But  as  much  as  Sappho  is  better 
in  lyrics  than  Erinna,  by  so  much  is  Erinna  better  than 
Sappho  in  hexameters. 


A  parrot  with  human  voice,  having  left  its  cage  with 
sides  of  withies,  came  with  its  bright-coloured  wing  to  a 
thicket,  always  practising  salutations  for  illustrious 
Caesar ;  neither  did  it  have  a  forgetfulness  of  the  name 
in  the  mountains.  And  every  bird  quickly  taught  ran 
striving  who  should  be  able  to  say  first  to  the  god,*  Hail ! 
Orpheus  persuaded  the  beasts  in  the  mountains;  but 
now  every  bird  unbidden  sings  out  Csesar ! 


The  inhabitants  of  Dorian  Rhodes  raised  for  you  your- 
self, O  Sun,  this  colossus  made  of  brass  up  to  Olympus, 
when  they  had  lulled  to  sleep  the  wave  of  Enyo,  and 
decked  their  country  with  the  spoils  of  their  enemies. 
For  they  placed^  not  only  over  the  sea,  but  also  on  land, 

>  Erinna  wrote  a  poem  under  the  title  of  'HXaicarf},  Distaff, 
s  Jacobs  compares  'Soffaidog*  kv  SkXroic  xriphv  eny^cv^Epoic  in  Meleager. 
»  Caesar  is  here  called  Saifnav,  as  Augustus  is  "  deus**  by  Virgil,  and 
"  diyus  "  by  Horace. 
*  avQtoav  for  dvsOtffav. 


the  mild  light  of  freedom  without  slavery ;  for  an  here- 
ditary dominion  on  sea  and  on  land  belonged  to  them, 
who  had  increased  from  the  race  of  Hercnles,* 


Ye  books,  whose^  are  ye?  What  do  ye  keep  concealed  ? 
We  are  the  daughters  of  Maeonides,  and  knowing  in  the 
stories  of  Troy;  one  [the  Hiad]  tells  of  the  wrath  of 
Achilles,  and  the  deeds  by  the  hands  of  Hector,  and  the 
contests  of  the  ten  years'  war  ;  but  the  other  the  labour 
of  Ulysses,  and  the  weeping  of  good  Penelope  about  her 
widowed  bed.  Be  on  good  terms  with  the  Muses ;  for 
after  your  songs  Time  said  that  it  possessed  eleven  Muses. 


O  traveller !  you  may  not  bear  aloft  in  your  grasp 
me,  the  stone  of  Ajax,  hurled  against  the  breast  of  Hec- 
tor. I  am  black  and  rough.  But  do  you  search  the 
divine  Homer  how  I  caused  to  roll  the  son  of  Priam  on 
the  ground.  But  now  with  difficulty  men,  the  dis- 
grace of  a  sad  race,  move  aside  me  small  from  the  earth 
with  a  lever,  but  may  some  one  hide  me  under  the  earth, 
for  I  am  ashamed  to  become  a  sport  to  worthless  men. 

Rear  me  not,  traveller !  The  weapon  I, 

That  Ajax  once  at  Hector  taught  to  fly. 

Rude  as  I  am,  let  Homer's  verse  unfold 

How  Priam's  son  along  the  plain  I  roll'd. 

Now  mortals  scarce  can  raise  my  massive  length 

With  levers — shame  on  their  degenerate  strength. 

But  hide  me,  earth ;  for  'tis  indeed  disgrace, 

To  be  the  jest  of  such  a  puny  race.  W.  C. 

^  For  Tlepolemus  the  son  of  Hercules  came  to  Bhodes  and  founded 
there  many  cities,  as  stated  Iqt  Homer  in  IX.  B.  686. 

*  Instead  of  nVcf,  "  what,**  Pianudes  has  rlvo^,  "  whose : "  which 
Bninck  prefers,  as  better  suited  to  the  answer. 



O  Ibycus,  robbers  having  landed  once  on  the  solitary 
desert  shore  of  an  island,  killed  you,  while  crying  many 
times  upon  a  cloud  of  cranes,  who  had  come  as  witnesses 
to  you,  when  destroyed  by  a  very  sad  death.  Nor  did  you 
shout  in  vain ;  since  a  certain  Erinnys  did  by  a  punish- 
ment avenge  your  murder  through  their  cry  in  the  land 
of  Sisyphus.^  O  gain-loving  tribe  of  robbers,  why  have 
you  not  feared  the  wrath  of  the  gods  ?  for  neither  did 
JEgisthus,  who  murdered  aforetime  the  minstrel,^  escape 
the  ever-seeing  eye  of  the  black-robed  furies. 


What  path  of  life  shall  a  person  cut  through !  In  the 
forum  are  quarrels  and  difficult  suits ;  at  home  cares ;  in 
the  fields  enough  of  toils ;  in  the  sea  fright ;  in  a  foreign 
land  fear,  if  you  have  any  thing ;  but  if  you  are  in  a 
difficulty,  vexation.  Have  you  a  wife  ?  you  will  not  be 
without  anxiety.  Are  you  unmarried?  you  live  still 
more  solitarily.  Children  are  troubles.  A  childless  life 
is  a  maimed  condition.  Youth  is  thoughtless.  Grey 
hairs  are  strengthless.  There  is  a  choice  of  one  of  these 
two  things,  either  never  to  have  been  bom,  or  to  die  as 
soon  as  bom. 

What  path  of  life  would  man  desire  to  keep  ? 

Wrangling  and  strife  the  forum  yields ;  at  home 
Are  cares ;  abroad,  incessant  toils ;  the  deep 

Is  vex'd  with  storms.     An  exile  would'st  thou  roam  ? 
If  wealthy,  fears ;  if  needy,  slights  await. 

Would'st  seek  to  wed  ?    Expect  not  so  to  shun 
The  general  doom.     Would'st  choose  a  single  state  ? 

In  joyless  gloom  thy  heavy  hours  will  run. 
Children  are  plagues ;  a  childless  life 's  accurst ; 

Folly 's  in  youth ;  in  age  fresh  infancy. 
Never  to  have  been  born,  the  wise  man  first 

Would  wish ;  and  next,  as  soon  as  bom,  to  die. 

J.  H.  M. 
1  i.  e.  Corinth.  >  See  Homer,  0^.  r.  269. 



You  may  cut  through  any  path  of  life.  In  the  forum 
there  is  reputation  and  clever  suits ;  at  home,  rest ;  in  the 
fields,  the  beauty  of  Nature ;  in  the  sea,  gain ;  in  a  foreign 
country,  if  you  have  any  thing,  fame  ;  but  if  vou  are  in 
a  difficulty,  you  alone  know  it.  Have  you  a  wife  ?  home 
will  be  best.  Are  you  unmarried  ?  you  live  still  more 
easily.  Children  are  a  desire ;  a  childless  life  is  without 
care.  Youth  is  robust ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  grey 
hairs  are  pious.  There  is  not  then  the  choice  of  one  of 
two  things,  either  never  to  have  been  born,  or  to  die ; 
for  all  the  things  of  life  are  good. 

In  every  way  of  life  true  pleasure  flows. 
Immortal  fame  from  public  action  grows. 
Within  the  doors  is  found  appeasing  rest ; 
In  fields  the  gifts  of  Nature  are  exprest. 
The  sea  brings  gain.     The  rich  abroad  provide 
To  blaze  their  names ;  the  poor  their  wants  to  hide. 
All  households  are  best  governed  by  a  wife  : 
His  cares  are  light,  who  leads  a  single  life. 
Sweet  children  are  delights,  which  marriage  bless  ; 
He,  that  hath  none,  disturbs  his  thoughts  the  less. 
Strong  youth  can  triumph  in  victorious  deeds ; 
Old  age  the  soul  with  pious  notions  feeds. 
All  states  are  good ;  and  they  are  fabely  led. 
Who  wish  to  be  unborn,  or  quickly  dead. 

John  Beaumont. 

XXII.  meleageb. 

O  Heliodora,  I  will  give  tears  to  you,  even  when  un- 
der the  earth,  *  the  remainder  of  my  affection  to  Hades,* 
tears  sadly  wept ;  and  I  pour  a  libation  upon  the  much- 
wept  tomb,  a  stream  ^  of  regret,  a  remembrance  of  my 

* — '  There  is  some  error  in  the  words  oropyag  Xiijj/avov  els  AtSav : 
which  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  correct. 

*  So  the  Westm.  text;  the  Eton  has  fivafui,  which  can  hardly  be 
united  to  cwMut, 


friendly  feeling.  For  piteonsly  do  I,  Meleager,  pite- 
ously  wail  for  tibee,  beloved  even  among  the  dead ;  a  vain 
pleasure  for  Acheron.  Alas !  alas !  where  is  my  regret- 
ted blossom  ?  Hades  has  snatched  it,  has  snatched  it. 
But  to  thee^  Earthy  all  nourishing,  do  I  fall  on  my  knees^ 
that  thou  mayest,  O  mother,  place  gently  in  thy  bosom 
her  greatly  bewailed. 

Tears,  all  that  love  has  left  to  give  the  dead. 

Take,  Heliodora,  e*en  in  Earth's  lone  bed. 

Tears,  bitter  tears,  the  glistening  mound  below, 

Regret's,  affection's,  fond  memorials  flow. 

Thee  sorely,  sorely  loved,  though  lost,  laments 

Meleager ;  Pluto's  bosom  nought  relents. 

Ah !  where 's  my  soul's  sweet  blosom  ?  reft,  the  tomb 

Hath  reft  it ;  dust  has  stain'd  her  prime  of  bloom. 

All-nursing  Earth !  oh,  bid  her  softly  rest, 

And  gently  fold  my  moum'd  one  to  thy  breast.     G.  Bo. 

A  certain  physician  sent  his  own  son  to  me  to  learn 
from  me  grammar ;  and  when  he  knew,  "  Sing  the 
wrath  of  Achilles,"  and, "  He  caused  ten  thousand  griefs," 
and  the  third  line  following  these,  "  And  he  sent  un- 
timely many  brave  souls  to  Hades,"  no  longer  does  he 
send  him  to  me  to  learn.  But  the  father  on  seeing  me, 
said — '^  Thanks  to  you,  my  friend ;  but  my  child  can 
learn  these  things  at  my  house.  For  I  send  many  souls 
untimely  to  Hades ;  and  for  this  I  want  no  grammarian." 

A  doctor,  fond  of  letters,  once  agreed 
Beneath  my  care  his  son  should  learn  to  read. 
The  lad  soon  knew  "  Achilles'  wrath"  to  sing. 
And  said  by  heart,  "  To  Greece  the  direful  spring.** 
"  'T  is  quite  enough,  my  dear,"  the  parent  said ; 
"  For  too  much  learning  might  confuse  your  head. 
That  wrath  which  hurls  to  Pluto's  gloomy  reign. 
Go,  tell  your  tutor,  I  can  best  explain."  Bl. 


Tantalus  ate  nothing,  for  the  fruit  of  the  plants  shaken 

92  GBEEK  ANTH0L06T. 

from  above  over  his  head  fled  from  him ;  ^  and  on  this 
account^  wanting  nourishment,  he  thirsted  less.  But  if 
he  had  eaten  ripened  figs,  and  damsons,  and  apples,  how 
great  is  the  thirst  to  dead  men  from  green  fruit  But 
we,  having  been  invited,  eat  all  kinds  of  salted  things, 
chennia,^  and  cheeses,  the  salted  fed;  of  a  goose,  birds,  and 
veal;  and  yet  we  drunk  [only]  one  cup  over  them. 
Therefore,  O  Tantalus,  we  suffer  more  bitterly  than  thou. 




Tell  me,  what  is  there  in  common  to  you  and  Pallas  ? 
for  spears  and  wars  are  present  to  the  one ;  but  to  you 
sumptuous  feasts  are  pleasant.  O  stranger,  do  not  rashly 
inquire  such  things  about  the  gods ;  but  know  in  how 
many  things  I  am  like  this  deity ;  for  the  glory  of  wars  is 
dear  to  me;*  all  the  Indus  subdued  even  from  the 
eastern  ocean,  knows  me.  And  we  have  honoured  the 
race  of  men ;  she  with  the  olive,  but  I  with  the  sweet 
grapes  of  the  wild  vine.  And  indeed  neither  did  a 
mother  endure  pains  for  me ;  but  I  loosened  *the  thigh 
of  my  father,  but  she  the  head.* 

A,  What  has  Bacchus  to  do  with  Minerva  ?  the  spear 
And  the  battle  please  her ;  thee  the  feast  and  good  cheer. 

B.  Not  so  fast,  my  good  friend,  when  you  question  the  gods, 
'Twixt  that  goddess  and  me  there  are  no  such  great  odds. 
As  a  proof  that  war's  glories  me  also  can  please. 

Take  all  India  subdued  to  the  easternmost  seas. 
To  enliven  man's  race  both  our  blessings  combine ; 
Her's,  the  olive ;  my  gift 's  the  sweet  clust'ring  vine. 

*  See  Horn.  O^.  A. 

3  As  it  is  uncertain  what  kind  of  animal  is  intended  by  x^^^^f^*  the 
Greek  word  is  left  in  the  English.  Hesychius  says  it  meant  a  little  bird 
eaten  in  a  pickled  state  in  Egypt,  or  a  kind  of  fish. 

'  So  Horace  says  of  Bacchus,  "  Quanquam  choreis  aptior  et  jocis  Lu- 
doque  dictus,  non  sat  idoneus  Pugnse  ferebaris;  sed  idem  Pacis  eras 
mediusque  belli.'' 

* — *  Bacchus  was  said  to  have  come  from  the  thigh,  but  Pallas  from 
the  head  of  Jupiter. 


Nor  <^  me  was  a  mother  in  pangs  brought  to  bed ; 
I  slipt  oat  of  JoTe's  thigh ;  she  sprang  from  his  head. 

H.  W. 


A  Median  stone-cutter  having  cut  me  a  white  stone 
from  a  re-growing  *  eminence  with  stone-cutting  instru- 
ments^ caused  me  to  cross  the  sea,  in  order  that  he  might 
make  statues^  the  symbols  of  labour-endurance  against 
the  Athenians.  But  when  Marathon  roared  against  the 
fighting  Persians^  and  their  ships  sailed  over  the  sea^ 
stained  with  the  outpouring  of  [their]  blood,  Athens, 
teeming  with  noble  men,  sculptured  Adrasteia,  a  deity 
hostile  to  proud  men.  ^  I  balance  hopes  in  return.'  But 
I  am  now  to  the  Athenians,  Victory ;  to  the  Assyrians, 
Nemesis  [Retribution]. 

Of  ivory  whiteness  from  a  momitain  rock 

A  Median  sculptor  in  a  massive  block 

Shipp'd  me  for  Attica,  and  doom'd  to  stand 

His  mark  of  triumph  o'er  this  Attic  land. 

But  when  at  Marathon  fall'n  Persia  groan'd, 

And  for  inva^<m  shatter'd  ships  atoned, 

By  Attic  art,  perfection's  nurse,  I  rose 

In  form  a  goddess,  who  the  proud  o'erthrows. 

In  different  characters  my  figure  speaks, 

To  Persians  Vengeance,  Victory  to  Greeks.      Hatlbt. 

XXVII.   palladas. 

They  say  that  Sarapis  stood  as  a  vision  of  the  night 
over  a  murderer,  while  sleeping  near  a  rotten  wall,  and 
uttered  an  oracle — "  Hollo !  you  that  lie  there,  stand  up ; 

'  Jacobs  obserrest  that  by  TraXtvav^koc  it  is  meant  to  show  that  stone, 
like  trees,  after  being  cut,  grows  again.  It  is  more  probable  that  the 
word  is  corrupt,  and  that  the  poet  wrote  TroXvavykog,  "wide-seeing," 
an  epithet  well  suited  to  TTEpwinj,  **  a  lofty  look-out." 

^ — '  It  is  not  easy  to  extract  a  legitimate  sense  from  *AvTiTaXavrtvia 
rdciXvidae:  but  not  difficult  to  suggest,  what  the  train  of  thought  re- 
quires, and  what  the  poet  probably  wrote. 


and  having  changed  the  place^  sleep^  wretched  one^  some 
where  else."  And  he,  through  the  dream,  changed  the 
place;  and  the  rotten  wall  on  a  sudden  lay  on  the 
ground  in  pieces ;  and  the  malefactor  rejoicing  sacrificed 
to  the  gods  early  in  the  morning  gifts  for  his  safety, 
thinking  that  the  god  was  pleased  with  murderers.  But 
Sarapis  again  stood  near  him  in  the  night,  and  eave  a  pro- 
phecy— "Thinkest  thou,  wretch,  that  I  care  for  the  un- 
just !  *  If  I  had  not  left  you  to  die,  you  had  now 
escaped  a  painless  death ;  ^  but  know  that  you  are  pre- 
served for  the  cross." 

A  murderer,  sleeping  by  a  tott'ring  wall, 
Saw  in  a  dream  Sarapis*  awful  face ; 

And — "  Ho,  thou  sleeper,  rise  " — ^he  heard  him  call, 
Go  take  thy  slumber  in  some  other  place. 

The  murderer  woke ;  departed ;  and,  behold, 

Straight  to  the  earth  the  tott'ring  fabric  roU'd. 

The  wretch  next  morning  offerings  brought,  as  fain 

To*think  himself  to  great  Sarapis  dear. 
But  the  god  came  by  night  and  spoke  again — 

"  Wretch,  dost  thou  think  the  like  of  thee  my  care  ? 
To  avert  a  painless  death  I  bade  thee  wake ; 
But  learn  that  Heaven  reserves  thee  for  the  stake." 

J.  W.  B. 


Who  [and]  whence  is  the  modeller?  A  Sicyonian. 
What  is  his  name  ?  Lysippus.  But  who  are  you  ?  Time, 
the  subduer  of  all.  But  why  do  you  go  on  tip-toe  ?  I  am 
always  running.  But  why  have  you  soles  of  two  kinds  ^ 
to  your  feet  ?  I  fly  light  as  wind.  Why  do  you  bear 
something  cutting  in  your  right  hand  ?  A  sign  to  men 
that  I  am  sharper  than  any  edge.  But  the  hair,  why  is  it 
down  your  face  ?  To  be  laid  hold  of  by  the  person  coming 

*~*  The  sense  is  the  same,  as  if  the  poet  had  said,  If  I  had  left  you 
to  die  now,  a  painless  death  would  have  come  upon  you. 

*  By  rafwrovc — ^c^vcic  is  meant  "  soles  of  a  double  kind,"  one  like  a 
human  being,  and  the  other  with  little  wings,  similar  to  Uie  ^rl^iXa  of 


to  meet  me,  by  Jupiter.^  But  why  are  the  parts  behind 
bald?  Because  no  one,  even  desiring  it,  will  after- 
wards lay  hold  of  me,  after  I  have  once  rushed  past 
him  with  winged  feet.  On  what  account  has  the  artist 
modelled  you  ?  On  account  of  you,  O  stranger,  and  has 
placed  instruction  in  the  doorway. 


Calligenes,  a  countryman,  when  he  had  cast  the  seed 
in  the  groimd,  went  to  the  house  of  Aristophanes, 
the  astrologer,  and  inquiring,  asked  if  there  would  be 
to  him  a  favourable  summer,  and  imgrudging  abimdance 
of  ears  of  com.  And  he,  after  taking  his  coimters,  and 
arranging  them  over  the  tablet,  and  bending  his  fingers, 
spoke  to  Calligenes — "  If  indeed  the  groimd  has  become 
wet,  as  much  as  is  sufficient,  and  shall  not  produce  any 
flowers  turning  to  wood  [not  fruit],  and  if  the  frost  shall 
not  break  the  ftirrow,  nor  the  top  of  the  rising  sheaf  be 
rubbed  off  by  a  hailstorm,  nor  fawns  consume  the  crops, 
nor  you  see^  any  failure  of  air  or  earth,  I  foretell  to 
you  a  good  harvest,  and  you  shall  well  cut  down  the 
ears.     Fear  the  locusts  alone." 


A  certain  stranger  of  Atame  thus  questioned  Pit- 
tacus  of  Mitylene,  the  son  of  Hyrradius — ^^  O  thou  aged 
sir,  a  double  marriage  invites  me :  the  one  is  a  damsel 
both  in  wealth  and  birth  my  equal ;  but  the  other  goes 
beyond  me  both  in  riches  and  birth.  Which  is  the  better 

'  Sonntag  justly  objected  to  this  useless  oath ;  but  instead  of  Kalpia  he 
mi^t  have  suggested  rather  p^ia,  "  easy,"  as  being  nearer  to  y^  iia. 
Tlus  Epigram  is  said  by  some  to  be  not  on  Time,  but  Opportunity,  in 
Latin  *'  Occasio,"  as  in  Phaedrus  v.  8.  But  "  Opportunity  "  could  hardly 
be  said  to  be  "  all-subduing/'  an  epithet  more  applicable  to  Time :  and 
hence  Kvp6v  is  not  "  a  razor/*  nor  "  a  scythe,"  but  merely  "  something 

'  Instead  of  oif/erac  Scaliger  suggested  oi^eac,  which  alone  makes  sense 


fact]  ?  Come,  advise  with  me,  wliich  of  the  two  shall  I 
ead  to  a  marriage  ?"  He  spoke,  but  the  other  lifting  up 
a  staff,  an  old  man's  armour — ^'  Lo !  they  will  tell  every 
thing  to  you.  (Now  some  boys,  who  had  tops  made 
swift  by  strokes,  were  spinning  tiiem  in  a  wide  cross- 
road.) Go,"  says  he,  ''after  theSr  steps.'*  And  he  stood 
nearer. '  And  they  said, ''  Drive  the  top  suited  to  thyself." 
The  stranger,  on  hearing  this,  forbore  to  lay  hold  of  a 
greater  family,  thinking  upon  the  omen  from  the  boys. 
And  as  he  led  the  litde  damsel  to  his  home  [he  said], 
"  Thus  do  you  go  and  drive  the  one  suited  to  yourself."  * 

^  On  this  saying,  attributed  to  different  authors,  see  Blomfield  at 
Prometh.  916. 


L   WESTMINSTER,    2  BOOK,    1  EP. 
n.  1      —    17  — 

ni.    UNCERTAIN. 

What  man  carelessly  cut  an  unripe  grape,  the  producer 
of  wine,  from  a  branch  of  a  vine  [sacred  to]  Bacchus  ; 
and  contracted  [as  to  his]  lips  threw  it  on  the  ground, 
that  it  might  be  a  half-eaten  offal  to  wayfaring  persons 
going  along  ?  May  Dionysus  be  hostile  to  him,  as  [he 
was]  to  Lycurgus,  because  he  extinguished  a  joyous 
feeling  on  the  increase.  For  by  a  draught  from  this 
some  one  might  perhaps  have  come  to  singing,  or  had  a 
release  from  sorrowful  care. 

Who  has  that  um*ipe  cluster  torn, 

And  thrown,  with  wrinkled  lip,  away. 
And  left  the  parent  vine  to  mourn 

Her  fruit,  to  barbarous  hands  a  prey  ? 
May  Bacchus  on  the  spoiler  turn 

His  fiercest  rage  and  bitterest  smart. 
His  head  with  fever'd  phrensy  bum, 

With  agony  distract  his  heart. 
For  hence  some  transitory  pleasure 

The  child  of  misery  might  have  found, 
Burst  into  song  of  wildest  measure. 

And  quaflTd  oblivion  of  his  wound.    Bl. 



V.  3      —  4  — 

VI.  2      —  3  — 

vn.  2     —  4  — 


Shut,  god,  the  unwearied  [unsubdued]  gates  of  Olym- 
pus ;  guard,  Jupiter,  the  very  holy  citadel  of  the  sky. 
For  already  is  the  sea  brought  by  the  spear  under  the 
voke  of  Rome,  and  the  land  likewise ;  but  the  road  to 
neaven  is  still  imtrodden. 

Olympus'  gates,  atill  unsubdued,  god,  shut ; 

Guard,  Jove,  the  holy  fortress  of  the  skies ; 
Borne  under  her  the  sea  and  land  has  put ; 

The  road  to  heav'n  alone  untrodden  lies.     G.  B. 

IX.  WESTMINSTER,    1  BOOK,    1  EP. 


The  Cyprian  [goddess  said]  to  the  Muses,  '*  Damsels, 
honour  Venus ;  or  I  will  arm  Love  against  you."  And 
they  [replied]  to  Venus, "  These  mouthings  are  for  Mars. 
That  litde  boy  flies  not  to  us." 

"  Tee"  Nymphs,"  quoth  Venus,  "  stand  of  mee  in  awe, 
Or  armed  Love  shall  all  your  hearts  invade." 

"  Goddesse,"  sayd  they,  "  wee  reckon  not  a  straw 
That  winged  boy ;  these  threats  to  Mars  upbraid." 

Leximos  Uthalmus. 

When  Venus  bade  the  Aonian  maids  obey. 

Or  her  own  son  should  vindicate  her  sway ; 

The  virgins  answer'd,  "  Threat  your  subjects  thus : 

That  puny  warrior  has  no  arms  for  us."        J.  H.  M. 

XL   WESTMINSTER,   3  BOOK,    17  EP. 




Theron,  the  [son]  of  Menippus,  did,  when  a  youth, 
pour  out  [waste]  his  paternal  wealth  basely  upon  ex- 
pense uncontrolled.  But  Euctemon,  a  friend  of  the 
family,  when  he  perceived  him  now  worn  down  by  po- 
verty, dry  as  a  stick,  did,  shedding  tears,  raise  him  up, 
and  made  him  the  husband  of  his  own  daughter,  and 
gave  many  marriage  presents.  But  when  wealth  came 
to  Theron  contrary  to  his  expectations,  immediately  he 
indulged  in  the  same  expenses ;  and  thus  did  a  second 
time  the  wave  of  destructive  poverty  flowing  again  hide 
[overwhelm]  Theron.  A  second  time  did  Euctemon 
weep,  not  for  him,  but  for  the  dowry  and  the  marriage-bed 
of  his  daughter;  and  perceived  that  it  is  not  possible  for 
a  man,  who  had  used  improperly  his  own  property,  to  be 
trust-worthy  in  that  of  another, 


Phoebus  said  of  Glaphyrus,^  the  shrill-toned,  after  he 
had  played  sweetly  upon  the  flute  with  many  holes, "  You 
have  spoken  falsely,  Marsyas,  about  your  invention ;  for 
this  person  has  taken  as  a  spoil  the  flute  of  the  Phrygian 
Ath^n^ ;  and  had  you  blown  into  such  formerly,  Hyag- 
nis*  would  not  have  bewailed  the  unhappy  flute-contest* 
by  the  Mseander." 

XIV.   WESTMINSTER,   2   BOOK,    17   EP. 


Of  Hope  and  Fortune  there  is  to  me  no  longer  a  care; 
nor  do  I  count  hereafter  upon  their  deceit.     I  have 

*  This  Glaphyrus  is  mentioned  by  Juvenal,  vi.  78. 

*  The  father  of  Marsyas. 

*  This  took  place  between  Apollo  and  Marsyas.  See  Ovid.  Met.  vi. 
385—400,  where  it  is  stated  that  Olympus,  the  musician,  wept  for  the 
death  of  his  young  friend,  not  Hyagnis  for  that  of  his  son. 

H  2 


come  to  port.  I  am  a  poor  man  in  Poverty,  but  I  dwell 
with  Freedom.  I  turn  aside  from  wealth,  tiie  insulter  of 


Do  not,  man,  sit  thou  at  the  table  of  another,  gratifying 
the  bellv  with  a  morsel  to  be  reproached;  at  one  time  weep- 
ing with  a  person  weeping;,  and  saddened  [as  to  his]  eye, 
and  again  laughing  with  him  laughing,  having  no  need 
thyself  either  of  weeping  or  laughter.  I  weep  with 
Milia,^  and  I  laugh  with  MUia. 

Oh,  do  not  at  a  stranger's  table  sit. 

Thy  belly  pleasing  with  a  shamefii!  bit ; 

Now  weejnng  with  the  weeper's  sadden'd  face, 

Now  laughing  with  the  laugher's  broad  grimace, 

Needing  thyself  no  tears  or  laugh ;  the  while 

I  weep  with  Milia,  and  with  ]!^a  smile.  G.  B. 

XVn.  WESTMINSTER,  2  BOOK,  100  EP. 

Hail,  Frugality, ^goddess  [and]  mistress,  the  object  of 
desire  to  virtuous  men,*  the  o£&pring  of  renowned  Tem- 
perance, your  excellence  such  persons  honour,  as  prac- 
tise what  is  just. 


XX.  3      —     83  — 

XXI.  4      —     20  — 

xxn.         4     —     21  — 

xxni.         1    . —     93  — 

1  "  Milia."    Brodaeus  thinks,  was  the  wife  of  the  epigrammatist 
' — *  Instead  of  Otd  ^ktnroiv  dvdp&v  dyaO&v  dydtrtifM,  Julian,  in  Or. 
vi.  p.  199,  has  9td  Skairoiva  <ro(j>&v  &vop&v  AyaTrtifiat  which  leads  to 
0«d,  dstrwoiva  aoifuSvt  dyaSdv  r  6.yairfifia,  i.  e.  "  mistress  of  the  wise, 
and  the  object  of  desire  to  virtuous  men,"     / 



I  came  upon  earth  naked,  and  naked  I  shall  go  tinder 
the  earth.  Why  do  I  labour  in  vain,  beholding  my 
naked  end  ? 

XXV.  WBSTiairSTBB,   1  BOOK,  94  EP. 

Many  things  happen  between  the  cup  and  the  tip  of 
the  lip.^ 


Life  has  obtained  by  lot  all  pleasant  paths.  In  the 
midst  of  the  city  fellow-bands  are  a  boast;  griefs  at 
home  are  concealed.  The  field  brings  delight,  the  sail- 
ing gain ;  a  strange  land  knowledge.  From  marriage  a 
famuy  has  an  union  of  sentiment ;  to  the  unmarried  life 
is  without  care.  A  child  becomes  a  wall  of  defence  to 
a  father ;  to  the  childless  fear  is  not  in  their  path.  Youth 
knows  how  to  give  manliness ;  grey  [hairs]  wisdom. 
From  thence  obtaining  confidence,  O  mortal,  beget  thou 
a  family. 


How  shall  any  one  fly  from  you,  Life,  without  death  ? 
For  numberless  are  your  pains ;  and  neither  to  fly  from 
nor  endure  them  is  it  easy.  What  are  naturally  beauti- 
ful are  pleasant,  the  earth,  sea,  stars,  the  orbs  of  the 
moon  and  sun.  But  all  the  rest  is  fear  and  grief;  and 
should  any  one  have  any  good,  he  waits  for  a  retributive 

From  thee,  O  Life,  and  from  thy  myriad  woes. 
Who,  but  by  death,  can  flee,  or  find  repose  ? 

'  This  proverb  was  thus  rendered  into  Latin  by  M.  Gato,  as  we  learn 
from  A.  Gell.  Noct.  Attic,  xiii.  16,  "  Inter  os  et  offam  multa  interyenire 


For  though  sweet  Nature's  beauties  gladden  thee. 
The  sun,  the  moon,  the  stars,  the  earth,  the  sea, 
All  else  is  fear  and  grief;  and  each  success 
Brings  its  retributive  unhappiness,  H.  W. 


All  things  [are]  a  laugh,  and  all  things  dust,  and  all 
things  nothing.  For  all  that  is  produced  comes  from 
what  is  without  reason. 

XXX.   WESTMINSTER,    1  BOOK,   97  EP. 

The  recently-born  child  of  Lysipp^  having  crept  to 
a  precipice,  was  commencing  the  unhappy  fate  of  Asty- 
anax.  But  she  guided  it  away,  by  putting  forward  the 
teat  from  her  bosom,  the  deUverer  from  hunger  and 

Her  infant  playing  on  the  verge  of  fate, 

When  but  an  instant's  space  had  been  too  late. 
And  pointed  crags  had  claim'd  his  forfeit  breath, 

The  mother  saw.     She  laid  her  bosom  bare. 

Her  child  sprang  forward  the  known  bliss  to  share, 
And  that  which  nourish'd  life  now  saved  from  death. 

J.  H.  M. 
Close  to  a  crag  had  crept  Lysipp6*s  boy, 
T'  endure  the  fate  of  Hector's  son  at  Troy ; 
When  she  her  bosom  bared ;  that,  like  a  guide. 
Released  from  danger  and  IHe's  stream  supplied. 

G.  B. 

xxxm.  3     11  — 

XXXIV.    ANTIPATER;  othbes,  PLATO. 

They  planted  me  a  walnut  by  the  road-side,  the  amuse- 
ment to  boys  passing  by,  for  their  skill  in  stone-throw- 

ETOK  8ELECTI0K.  103 

ing.  In  all  my  end-twigs  and  well-growing  branches 
have  I  been  broken,  through  being  pelted  by  frequent 
hands.  There  is  no  advantage  for  trees  to  bear  fruit 
welL  For  truly  I  unfortunate  have  borne  fruit  to  my 
own  wrong. 


Ye  hanging  branches  of  the  wide-spreading  oak,  a 
well-shading  height  to  men  guarding  themselves  against 
unmitigated  heat,  bearing  many  leaves,  a  closer  covering 
than  tiles,  the  dwelling  of  wood-doves,^  the  dwelling  of 
Tettiges,*  ye  branches  in  the  open  air,  defend  me  too, 
reclining  under  your  leaves,  and  flying  from  the  rays  of 
the  sun. 

Aerial  branches  of  tall  oak,  retreat 

Of  loftiest  shade  for  those,  who  shun  the  heat, 

With  foliage  full,  more  close  than  tiling,  where 

Dove  and  Cicada  dwell  aloft  in  air, 

Me  too,  who  thus  my  head  beneath  you  lay, 

F^tect,  a  fugitive  from  noon's  fierce  ray.      G.  Bo. 


A  single  heifer,  and  a  sheep  with  wool  like  hair,  was 
the  wemh  of  Anstides ;  by  these  he  kept  oS  hunger 
from  his  door.  But  he  failed  in  both.  A  wolf  killed 
the  sheep,  and  labour-pains  the  heifer ;  and  the  herd  of 
poverty  perished :  and  he  having  twisted  a  noose,  with 
the  string  that  tied  round  his  wallet,  to  his  neck,  died 
piteously  by  his  cabin,  where  there  was  no  lowing. 

*  Instead  of  futrdv,  to  which  Branck  justly  objected,  Jacobs  happily 
suggested  iffarrdv,  refeiring  to  Horace,  **  ulmo,  Nota  quae  sedes  fuerat 

'  The  Greek  word  rsmytg  is  generally  translated  "  grasshopper ;" 
but  as  the  grasshopper  is  not  found  in  England  upon  trees,  the  Greek 
word  has  been  preserved.  The  animal  alluded  to  answers  rather  to  the. 
cricket  It  is  called  in  Italy,  where  it  is  still  found  on  trees,  **  cigala," 
a  corruption  of  the  Latin  **  cicada." 


One  fleecy  ewe,  one  heifer,  were  the  store 

That  drove  du-e  want  from  Aristides'  door. 

He  lost  them  both.     His  teeming  heifer  died* 

His  single  ewe  the  ravenous  wolf  descried, 

And  bore  away.     Thus  all  he  had  was  gone. 

Retiring  to  his  silent  hut  alone. 

The  belt  that  bound  his  empty  scrip  he  takes, 

Fastais  the  noose,  and  wretched  Hfe  forsakes.     F.  H. 

A  single  heifer  and  a  coarse-wooM  sheep 

Was  all  the  wealth  of  Aristides  poor. 
With  these  he  fondly  fancied  he  could  keep 

At  least  the  pains  of  hunger  from  his  door. 
In  both  he  fail'd.     A  wolf  the  sheep  devoured ; 

His  heifer  in  the  paina  of  labour  died. 
His  flock  thus  lost,  he  hung  himself,  mind-sour'd. 

In  a  noose  twisting  what  his  wallet  tied, 
Hard  by  his  cabin ;  where  the  poor  man's  shed 

Sounds  heard  no  more ;  himself  and  flock  were  dead. 

G.  B. 



Love  does  not  wrong  the  race  of  voice-dividing  [men] ; 
but  love  is  the  pretext  to  the  ill-regulated  minds  of 
mortals.  / 


XL.       a    —    11  — 

XLI.  1      —      14  — 

XLIL  —  1      —     99  — 

XLHI.  — —  4      —        3  — 


Why  fear  ye  death,  the  parent  of  quietness,  that  which, 
causes  to  cease  diseases  and  the  pains  of  poverty?  He 
alone  is  at  hand  once  to  mortals^  nor  has  any  mortal  seen 
him  coming  a  second  time.    But  diseases  are  many  and 


yarioTis^  coming  some  to  some  mortals,  and  others  to 
others,  and  changing  places. 

Why  shrink  from  death,  the  parent  of  repose, 
The  cure  of  sickness  and  all  human  woes  r 
As  through  l^e  trihes  of  men  he  speeds  his  waj, 
Once,  and  but  once,  his  visit  he  will  pay ; 
Whilst  pale  diseases,  harbingers  of  pain, 
Close  on  each  other  crowd,  an  endless  train. 

W.  Shephisbd. 

Why  fear  ye  death,  the  parent  of  repose. 
Who  numbs  the  sense  of  penury  and  pain  ? 

He  comes  but  only  once,  nor  ever  throws. 
Triumphant  once,  his  painful  shaft  again. 

But  countless  evils  upon  life  intrude. 

Recurring  oft  in  sad  vicissitude.  Bl. 

XLT.   W^STMmSTBB,  1  BOOK,  98  KP. 


The  road  down  to  Hades  is  straight,  whether  you  go 
from  Athens,  or  depart  from  Mero^  a  corpse.  Let  it  not 
vex  you  that  you  have  died  at  a  distance  from  your 
country.  There  is  one  wind  that  carries  yx)u  from  every 
where  to  Hades. 

Whether  from  Athens  thou  begin. 

Or  Mero6  thy  road, 
One  trodden  path  still  points  the  way 

Unto  the  joyless  god. 
And  though  an  exile's  death  thou  die. 

And  see  thy  home  no  more, 
Blows  from  each  clime  a  steady  gala 

Swift  to  the  Stygian  shore.  B.  Tweddel. 

Straight  is  our  passage  to  the  grave, 
Whetiier  from  Merod's  burning  wave. 

Or  Attic  groves  we  roam : 
Grieve  not  in  distant  lands  to  die ; 
Our  vessels  seek  from  every  sky 

Death's  universal  home.  F.  H. 


From  Athens  or  from  Meroe 
Your  passage  to  the  grave  will  be 

Direct  alike.     Then  cease  to  care, 
Far  from  your  country  if  you  die. 
From  every  quarter  of  the  sky 

To  our  last  home  the  wind  sets  fair.     H.  W. 


I  am  dead ;  but  I  am  waiting  for  thee ;  and  thou  too 
shalt  wait  for  some  other  person.  One  Hades  receives 
all  mortals  equally.^ 

XLYin.   WESTMmSTEB,    1  BOOK,    13  EP. 
XLIX.    UNOWNED.    ' 

Jupiter  [became]  a  swan,  a  bull,'a  satjrr,  gold,  for  the 
love  [respectively]  of  Leda,  Europa,  Antiop^,  Dana^. 


Those,  who  have  left  behind  the  pleasant  light,  I  do 
not  still  lament,  but  those,  who  are  living  continusdly  in 
the  expectation  of  death. 

Far  happier  are  the  dead,  methinks;  than  they 
Who  look  for  death,  and  fear  it  every  day.     W.  C. 

I  mourn  not  those,  who,  banish'd  from  the  light, 
Sleep  in  &e  grave  through  death's  eternal  night ; 
But  those,  whom  death  for  ever  near  appab, 
Who  see  the  blow  suspended,  ere  it  falls.  Bl. 


Nature  has  found  amongst  men  nothing  more  baneful 
than  a  man  who  makes  a  false  show  of  pure  friendship. 
For  we  are  not  any  longer  on  the  watch  as  against  an 
enemy ;  but  loving  him  as  a  friend,  in  this^  we  are  hiirt 
the  more. 

^  Here  S/m»c  seems  to  be  used  for  ifioiatc, "  equally." 


No  mischief  worthier  of  fear 

In  Nature  can  be  found, 
Than  friendship,  in  ostent  sincere, 

But  hollow  and  unsound. 
For  lull'd  into  a  dangerous  dream. 

We  close  infold  a  foe ; 
Who  strikes,  when  most  secure  .we  seem, 

The  inevitable  blow.  W.  C. 

Nature  for  man  has  nothing  harsher  found 
Than  him,  whose  friendship  false  is  and  unsound. 
Not  as  a  foe  we  watch  him  with  alarm, 
But,  as  firiend  loving,  suffer  greater  harm.       G.  B. 


You  have  a  feigned  love ;  and  through  fear  and  com- 
pulsion you  love.  But  nothing  is  less  to  be  trusted  than 
the  loving  in  this  way. 


Friend,  if  you  are  clever,  take  me  into  your  hands ; 
but  if  you  are  entirely  ignorant  of  the  Muses,  throw 
away  what  you  do  not  understand. 

LIV.   WESTMINSTER,    1    BOOK,   41   EP. 

A  home  and  country  [are]  the  charm  of  life;  but 
overmuch  care  is  to  men  not  life,  but  labour. 


I  have  seen  the  wall  of  the  ancient*  Babylon,  upon 
which  chariots  ran,  and  [the  statue  of]  Jupiter^  by  the 

^  The  word  ILpavaae,  originally  the  name  of  an  ancient  king  of 
Athens,  is  here  metaphorically  applied  to  Babylon. 

<  The  statue  of  Jupiter  at  Olympia  was  one  of  the  most  celebrated 
works  of  Phidias. 


AlphSus,  and  the  hanging  gardens  [of  Babylon],  and 
the  Colossus  of  the  Sun,^  and  the  great  labour  of  the 
lofty  Pyramids,  and  the  vast  monument  of  Mausolus. 
But  when  I  beheld  the  house  [temple]  of  Diana  [at 
Ephesus],^  running  up  to  the  clouds,  all  these  were  ob- 
scured ;  and  if  the  sun  has  seen,'  it  has  never  beheld 
any  thing  of  such  a  kind,  except  Olympus. 


*  Boldness,  thou  j&rst  leader  of  ships* — for  thou  hast 
discovered  the  running  over  the  sea,  and  hast  excited 
the  minds  of  men  by  gain — what  deceitful  timber  hast 
thou  planned  and  worked ;  what  a  love  of  gain,  detected 
by  death,  hast  thou  infused  into  man !  ^  The  age  of  voice- 
dividing  men  was  truly  golden,  if  the  sea  was  seen  from 
the  land  at  a  distance,  as  Hades  is.^ 

LVni.   WESTMINSTER,   3  BOOK,  19  EP. 
LIX.  2      —      14  — 


The  wealth  of  the  soul  is  the  only  true  wealth.  *The 
rest  of  possessions  have  more  annoyance.^  That  man  it 
is  just  to  call  a  possessor  of  much  and  wealthy,  who  is 
able  to  use  his  good  things.  But  if  one  is  wasted  away 
amongst  pebbles  [counters],  ever  hastening  to  heap  one 
kind  of  wealth  upon  another,  this  man  will  labour,  like 

*  The  Colossus  at  Rhodes  is  here  alluded  to. 

«  See  Pliny  N.  H.  xxxvi.  14.    Act.  Apost.  xix.  24. 

'  In  the  words  icfjv  Ut  is  an  error  noticed,  but  not  corrected,  by  Jacobs. 

* — *  Jacobs  quotes  Tery  appositely  Statins  Sylv.  iii.  2, 61,  **  Quis  rude 
et  abscissum  miseris  animantibus  aequor  Fecit  iter  ? — Audax  ingenii.*' 

»— ^  Jacobs  refers  to  Horace,  Epist.  I.  ii.  8,  "  tamen  illic  vivere  vd- 
lem — Neptunum  procul  e  terra  spectare  furentem." 

• — *  Instead  of  rdXXa  S*  ?x**  a^TV  irXcioya  r&v  lertavtaVt  where  aifrrj 
interferes  with  the  sense  and  metre,  Brunck  reads  r^XXa  ^  l^ci  X^grifv 
wXdova  Ti3v  dyaOtSVf  which  is  adopted  by  Jacobs,  although  he  confesses 
it  is  not  likely  that  dyaOiSv  should  ha^e  been  corrupted  into  nrtdviav. 

ETON  6BLS0TIOK.  109 

the  bee  in  its  hive  with  many  holes^  while  others  take 
away  the  honey. 

The  riches  of  the  mind  alone  are  true ; 

All  other  wealth  only  more  trouble  brings. 
To  him  the  title  of  a  rich  man 's  due, 

Who 's  able  to  make  use  of  his  good  tiiiogs. 
But  whoso 's  mind  on  oalculati(ms  dwells, 

Intent  on  heaping  money  upon  money. 
He,  like  the  bee,  adkis  to  ^e  hive  new  oells, 

Out  of  which  others  will  extract  the  honey.  H.  W. 


The  expectation  of  death  is  a  very  painful  sorrow.  A 
mortal  when  dead  has  this  as  a  gain.^  Do  not  then  weep 
for  him  who  has  departed  from  life.  Of  death  there  is 
no  second  suffering. 

Death  to  expect  brings  much  of  grief  and  pain ; 
Which  not  to  feel  the  dead  may  count  a  gain. 
For  him  lament  not,  who  yields  up  his  breath ; 
There  is  no  second  suffering  after  death.     G.  B. 



ON  one's  country. 

Hail^  Ithaca.  After  my  labours,  after  the  bitter  sor- 
rows at  sea,  delightedly  do  I  come  to  thy  soil,  in  order 
that  I  may  see  Laertes,  and  my  wife,  and  my  only  child 
shining  [in  youth].  For  the  love  of  you  has  soothed  my 
mind ;  and  1  know  myself  that  there  is  nothing  sweeter 
than  one's  own  country  and  parents. 

Hail,  Ithaca,  my  loved  paternal  soil, 
How  after  years  of  travel,  war,  and  toil, 

*  Vii.  "not  to  be  pained  by  the  expectation." 


How  after  countless  perils  of  the  sea, 

My  heart,  rctummg,  fondly  clings  to  thee ! 

Where  I  shall  once  more  bless  my  father's  age, 

And  smooth  the  last  steps  of  my  pilgrimage ; 

Agajn  embrace  my  wife  ;  again  enjoy 

The  sweet  endearments  of  my  only  boy. 

Now  from  my  soul  I  feel  how  strong  the  chain 

That  binds  the  passions  to  our  native  plain.     J.  H.  M. 

Lxm.   WESTMINSTER,  3  BOOK,  25  EF. 


For  you  did  the  bees  themselves  with  their  mouths 
carry  away  the  varied  flowers  of  the  Muses,  after  they 
had  plucked  them.  And  the  Graces  themselves  gave  to 
you,  Menander,  a  happy  hit  in  expression,  tliowing 
themselves  into  [your]  dramas.  You  live  for  ages ;  and 
the  glory  which  comes  from  you  to  Athens,  reaches  the 
boundaries  of  the  heavens. 

The  very  bees,  O  sweet  Menander,  hung 
To  taste  the  Muses'  spring  upon  jhy  tongue ; 
The  very  Graces  made  the  scenes  you  writ 
Their  happy  point  of  fine  expression  hit 
Thus  still  you  live ;  you  make  your  Athens  shine. 
And  raise  its  glory  to  the  skies  in  thine. 

Anon.  Spectator. 

The  bees,  Menander,  who  with  active  wing 
Sport  'midst  the  flowers  that  deck  the  Muses'  spring ; 
Around  thy  lips  in  thick'ning  clusters  hung. 
And  tipp'd  with  honey  drops  the  infant  tongue. 
The  Graces,  too,  on  thee  their  gifts  bestow,' 
And  teach  thy  strains  with  elegance  to  flow. 
Celestial  bard !  immortal  as  thy  lays. 
Thy  native  Athens  shares  thy  meed  of  pndse. 


Thee  with  their  mouths  the  Attic  bees  have  fed, 
Flowers  various  plucking  from  the  Muses'  bed  5 


The  Graces  too,  Menander,  gave  thee  wit, 

In  thy  plays  throwing  happy  words  and  fit 

For  ever  live  thou,  and  the  glory  given 

By  thee  to  Athens,  touch  the  bounds  of  heaven.     G.  B. 


Everjr  untaught  person  is  most  prudent  by  being 
silent^  [and]  concealing  his  talk^  as  a  disorder  die  most 

A  blockhead,  as  long  as  he's  silent,  is  wise ; 

For  his  talk  is  a  sore  he  should  hide  from  all  eyes. 

H.  W. 


Not  [merely]  to  live  has  an  agreeable  nature,  but  to 
throw  away  from  the  breast  gray-headed  cares.  I  wish 
to  have  wealth  that  is  sufficient.  But  the  overmuch  and 
mad  pursuit  of  gold  ever  eats  down  the  feelings.  Hence 
you  will  find  amongst  men  both  poverty  [to  be]  better  than 
wealth,  and  death  than  life.  Do  you  then,  knowing  this, 
direct  the  paths  of  your  heart,  looking  to  one  hope,  name- 
ly. Wisdom. 


Temperance  and  Love,  afiter  coming  in  opposition  to 
each  other,  both  lost  their  lives.  A  burning  desire  for 
Hippoh^us  destroyed  Phaedra;  and  chaste  Temperance 
killed  fiippolytus. 

Once  Love  and  Virtue  were  opposed  in  fight ; 

And  either  fell  before  the  other's  might ; 

Fond  Phaedra  died,  Hippoljrtus,  for  thee ; 

A  victim  thou  to  thine  own  chastity.  R.  C.  C. 

LXVni.   WESTMINSTER,    1  BOOK,  80  EP. 
LXIX.  2      —      17  — 



A  fisherman  was  employed  in  catching  fish.  TTim  did 
a  damsel  of  property  see,  and  was  afiected  in  her  heart 
with  desire,  and  made  him  the  partner  of  her  bed.  But 
he  after  a  life  of  poverty  took  on  himself  the  swell  of 
all  kinds  of  high  bearing.  And  Fortune  with  a  smile  ^ 
was  standing  by,  and  said  to  Yenus,  *'  This  is  not  your 
contest,  but  mine." 

Euseia,  rich  in  gold  and  land, 

To  a  poor  fisher  gave  her  hand. 

Ophion,  dazzled  with  his  gain, 

Grew  haughty,  petulant,  and  vain. 

"  Venus,"  says  Fortune,  looking  sly, 

"  Who  play'd  the  trick,  pray,  you  or  I  ?  '* 

Ph.  Smtth. 


The  deity  is  able  [to  do]  many  things,  although  they 
are  contrary  to  one's  thoughts.  He  raises  up  the  little, 
-brings  down  the  great,  and  he  will  cause  to  cease  your 
eyebrow  [proud  look]  and  haughty  swelling,  even  though 
a  river  ^  should  furnish  streams  of  gold.  The  wind 
knows  how  to  throw  upon  the  ground  not  the  rush  or 
mallow,  but  the  greatest  of  either  oak  or  plane  trees. 

God's  providence  brings  much  to  pass  that's  strange. 
Making  the  small  and  great  their  lot  exchange. 
He  '11  tame  thy  haughty  brow  and  swelling  pride. 
Though  wealth  pour  on  thee  with  a  golden  tide. 
Winds  o'er  the  reed  and  mallow  sweep  in  vain, 
But  level  the  tall  oak  and  spreading  plane.     '  H.  W. 

*  In  the  Eton  Greek  text  the  word  is  yavowera,  evidently  an  error  of 
the  press  for  ycXooxra  in  Jacobs'  ed. 

•  By  the  rlvCT  is  probably  meant  the  Pactolus.  For  in  the  old  world, 
as  in  the  new,  gold  has  been  generally  found  only  where  there  are 



Not  stumbling,  you  are  loved  by  mortals^  and  lored 
by  the  blest  feods],  and  easily  they  are  wont  to  hear 
you  when  praying.  Should  you  stumble,  no  one  is  any 
longer  a  friend  to  you ;  but  all  things  are  at  the  same 
time  inimical,  and  changed  by  the  turns  in  the  balance 
of  Fortune. 

While  all  goes  smooth  with  thee,  men  hold  thee  dear ; 
And  gods,  whene'er  thou  prayest,  lend  an  ear : 
Slip  once ;  the  friends  are  foes,  foes  far  and  near ; 
With  Fortune's  lightest  puflfe  they  shift  and  veer.    G.  C.  S. 

Stand  well ;  thou  It  be  of  men  and  gods  the  friend ; 
And  to  thy  prayers  a  ready  ear  they  11  lend. 
Stmnble ;  none  love  thee ;  hostile  all  around 
Are  seen,  and  changed  by  Fortune's  turns  are  found. 

G.  B. 


Envy  subdues  itself  with  its  own  weapons. 


LXXVn.  1      —       4  — 

LXXVni.  1      —      49  — 


If  you  love  me  loving  [you],  the  gratification  is  two- 
fold ;  but  if  you  hate  me,  you  do  not  hate  so  much,  as 
I  love  you. 

LXXXI.  1      —      62  — 


Please  your  own  mind.  Of  your  fellow  citizens  with 
bad  feelings  some  one  will  speak  ill,  another  better. 



An  age  carries  away  all  things.  A  long  time  knows 
how  to  change  the  name^  and  form^  and  nature^  and 

Time  bears  the  world  away ;  a  little  date 

Will  change  name,  beauty,  nature — ^ay,  and  fate. 

J.  H.  M. 



All  the  astrologers  prophesied,  as  if  with  one  voice, 
that  the  brother  of  my  father  would  be  of  a  long  old- 
age.  But  Hermocleides  alone  said  he  was  on  the  point 
of  death.  Now  he  said  [so],  when  we  were  within,  strik- 
ing ourselves  [through  grief]  for  him  a  corpse. 

My  uncle 's  sure  to  live  through  many  a  year ; 

So  all,  but  one,  the  fortune-tellers  swore. 
Says  Hermocleides,  "  He 's  short-lived,  I  fear  ;* 

But  this  was  when  the  hearse  was  at  the  door.    H.  W. 

With  one  voice  all  th'  astrologers  foretold 

My  uncle  would  not  die  till  very  old. 

Alone  said  Hermocleides,  "  Death  is  nigh — '* 

When  for  the  dead  we  raised  the  funeral  cry.     G.  B. 

LXXXVI.   WESTMINSTER,   1   BOOK,    70  EP. 

LXXXVn.  3      —       47  — 

LXXXVIIL  2      —       81  — 

LXXXIX.  1      —       69  — 


You  have  bought  hair,  paint,  honey,  wax,  teeth ;  at 
the  same  cost  you  could  have  bought  a  face. 



Herdsman^  pasture  your  herd  farther  off,  lest  Pe- 
ricles the  thief  shall  drive  you  away  together  with  the 

XCm.    WESTMINSTER,  3  BOOK,  29  EP, 


Hou  talkest  much,  man ;  but  after  a  little  time  thou 
art  laid  in  the  ground.*  Be  silent;  and  while  you  are 
still  living,  meditate  upon  death. 


The  sun  is  the  god  of  light  to  mortals.  But  if  he  did 
an  insult  by  shining,  I  would  not  desire  even  his  light — 
[or,  I  would  not  regret  the  loss  of  bis  light]. 


To  praise  is  best ;  but  blame  is  the  commencement  of 
hatred.     But  ^to  speak  well  is  the  honey  of  Attica.^ 

XOVn.   WESTMINSTER,    I  BOOK,  81  EP. 

xcvm.  2     —     27  — 

XCIX.  1      —        7  — 

C.  2      —      29  — 


If  you  are  living  the  extended  period  of  the  stag  or 

»  X^M^^  generally  means  •*  on  the  ground,"  not,  as  here,  *'  in  "  or  "  un- 
der the  ground.** 

• — *  Here  is  a  play  on  the  words  KoX&g  eiireXv,  **  to  speak  well ;  ** 
which  mean  either  *'  to  speak  in  praise,**  or  "  to  speak  elegantly,*'  like 
an  Athenian.  The  honey  of  Attica,  here  applied  metaphorically  to  a 
sweet  discourse,  owed  its  superiority  to  the  thyme  of  Hymettus,  a  hill 
near  Athens,  much  frequented  by  bees. 

I  2 


crow,  [there  is]  a  pardon  for  your  coUectmg  the  greatest 
wealth.  But  if  you  are  one  of  men,  whom  old  a^e  forth- 
with reaches,  let  no  mad  desire  of  boundless  wealth  seize 
upon  you.  Do  not  lose  your  mind  in  pains  not  to  be 
borne ;  nor  let  others  enjoy  freely  your  good  things. 

en.   WESTMINSTBR,   2  BOOK,  36  EP. 
cm.  4     —      4  — 


Do  not  you,  being  mortal,  calculate  upon  any  thing  as 
being  immortal.  For  there  is  nothing  in  life  trustworthy 
to  beings  of  a  day.  Since  this  coffin  holds  even  Casan- 
der  dead,  a  man  worthy  of  an  immortal  nature. 


If  you  inquire  for  Timachus  in  Hades,  in  order  that 
vou  may  hear  something  about  his  soul,  or  how  he  will 
be  hereafter,  inquire  for  the  son  of  Fausanias  of  the  tribe 
of  Ftolemais.  x  ou  will  find  him  in  [the  portion]  of  the 

CVI.   WESTMINSTER,    1  BOOK,  57  EP. 


Each  one  is  pained,  when  those  who  belong  to  him 
perish.     But  friends  and  this  city  weep  for  Nicodicus. 

We  each  lament  the  loved  ones  nearest  us. 

But  friends  and  city  mourn  Nicodicus.       Sterling. 


Concise  ^  was  the  stranger,  and  so  [is]  the  tomb.  I 
will  not  tell  a  long  story.  Theris,  son  of  Aristaeus,  a 
Cretan,  [will  be]  under  me  a  long  *  [time]. 

*  By  <Twvrofioc,  Jacobs  understands  "  a  man  of  few  words :  **  but 
Ruhnken,  in  Epist.  Crit.  p.  174,  "  of  short  stature,"  referring  to  N. 
Heinsius  on  6yid,  Amor.  ii.  6,  59,  '*  Ossa  tegit  tumulus ;  tumulus  pro 
corpore  panrua;  Quo  lapis  eziguus  par  sibi  carmen  habet. 

2  After  ^oXix^v,  Ruhnken  w6uld  supply  viKtivagt  as  in  an  Epitaph 


CIX.   WESTMINSTER,    1  BOOK,  56  EP, 


Instead  of  a  slight  tomb,  place  Greece,  and  place  upon 
it  spears,  the  symbols  of  the  barbarian's  naval  defeat : 
and  round  the  base  of  the  tomb  paint  the  Persian  Mars 
[army]  and  Xerxes.  In  this  way  bury  Themistocles. 
Salamis  shall  lie  upon  me  as  a  column,  telling  my  deeds. 
Why  do  ye  place  the  great  man  in  a  small  [sepulchre]  ? 

Greece  be  the  monument.     Around  her  throw 

The  broken  trophies  of  the  Persian  fleet. 
Inscribe  the  gods  that  led  th'  insulting  foe. 

And  mighty  Xerxes  at  the  tablet's  feet. 
There  lay  Themistocles.     To  spread  his  fame 

A  lasting  column  Salamis  shall  be. 
Raise  not,  weak  man,  to  that  immortal  name. 

The  little  records  of  mortality.  J.  H.  M. 

Give  me  no  grave  but  Greece.     That  grave  bedeck 
With  symbols  of  the  fall'n  barbarians'  wreck ; 
The  base  to  Xerxes  and  the  Persian  fleet. 
Such  burial  for  Themistocles  is  meet. 
For  column  Salamis  my  deeds  to  tell 
Shall  stand.     Such  greatness  brooks  no  narrow  cell.^ 

G.  S. 



My  name.  What  is  that  to  you  ?  My  country.  For 
what  purpose  is  this  [told]?  I  am  of  a  renowned  race. 
What  if  of  the  most  mean  ?  After  living  with  honour  I 
departed  life.  What  if  without  honour  ?  And  I  now 
lie  here.     To  whom  art  thou  speaking  thus  ? 

found  in  Muratori,  p.  649 :  others  understand  iorau     The  passage  is 
probably  corrupt,  and  might  be  easily  corrected. 


My  name,  my  country,  what  are  they  to  thee  ? 

What,  whether  proud  or  base  my  pedigree  ? 

Perhaps  I  far  surpass'd  all  other  men ; 

Perhaps  I  fell  below  them  alL     What  then  ? 

Suffice  it,  stranger,  that  thou  seest  a  tomb. 

Thou  know'st  its  use.     It  hides — no  matter  whoiii.  W.  C. 


Having  robbed  me  of  life,  you  are  giving  me  a  tomb. 
But  you  are  hiding,  not  burying  me.  Such  a  tomb  may 
you  enjoy  yourself. 


Although  you  are  hiding  me,  as  if  no  man  were  look- 
ing on,  the  eye  of  Justice  is  beholding  all  that  is  taking 

Thou^  here  you  laid  my  corpse  when  none  were  nigh, 
One  saw  thee,  murderer,  one  all-seeing  eye. 

F.  H. 

If  you  arrive  at  Cyzicus,  it  is  a  little  labour  to  find  out 
Hippachus  and  Didymfe.  For  the  family  is  not  without 
note.  And  you  will  tell  them  a  painful  word  indeed, 
but  say  altogether  this — that  I  possess  their  son  Critias. 

K  thou  should'st  go  to  Cyzicus,  pray  seek 

For  Hippacus  and  Didyme. 
Their  name  is  known  there ;  'twill  no  trouble  be. 

And  tell  them — well  I  wot  the  words  thou  It  speak 
Will  cut  them  to  the  heart — ^yet  tell  them — ^here 
I  hold  the  ashes  of  their  Critias  dear.  J.  W.  B. 

If  thou  to  Cyzicus  should'st  go,  'twill  be 
No  toil  to  find  out  Hippacus  and  Didyme. 
The  family 's  well  known.     Though  sad  be  told 
The  tale,  say— dead  their  Critias  here  I  hold.      G.  B 



For  Agathon  of  conspicuous  strength,  who  died  in 
defence  of  Abdera,  the  whole  city  here  has  raised  the 
cry  at  the  funeral  pyre.  For  of  youths  not  one  such  has 
blood-loving  war  skin  in  the  whirlwind  of  battle. 

Who  for  Abdera  died,  the  city  all 

Lamented  Agathon  at  his  faneraL 

Never  did  Mars,  blood-loving,  with  such  ruth 

Slay  in  the  storm  of  fight  so  brave  a  youth.       G.  B. 


This  empty^  tomb  the  people  of  Magnesia  placed  for 
Themistocles,  when,  after  having  freed  his  country  from 
the  Medes,  he  went  xmder  a  foreign  land  and  stone. 
For  so  the  envy  [of  the  gods]  wished.  But  his  virtues 
have  a  less^  [or,  too  little]  reward. 


Dear  Earth,  place  in  thy  bosom  the  old  Amyntichus, 
remembering  his  many  labours  in  thy  behalf.  For  he 
ever  fixed  firmly  the  stem  of  the  olive ;  and  frequently 
adorned  you  with  cuttings  of  Bromius  [the  vine] ;  a^d 
fiUed  you  with  Ceres  [com]  ;  and,  drawing  channels  of 
water,  made  you  fruitfiil-in-ppt-herbs  and  autumn-pro- 
duce. In  return  for  which  do  you  lie  gently  on  his 
hoary  head,  and  deck  thyself  with  the  flowers  of  spring 

^  As  the  bones  of  Themistocles  were  said  to  have  been  carried  clan- 
destinely, after  they  had  been  placed  in  the  tomb,  to  Athens,  the  epithet 
"  empty  "  is  supposed  by  some  to  have  been  written  after  that  event. 
Jacobs  suggests  KoXbv,  because  Plutarch  testifies  in  Themtstocl.  §  32, 
that  TCL^ov  aifTov  Xafiwpbv — Moyvijrcc  fxowcri.  Grotius  preferred  ica- 
Kov,  for  his  translation  is,  "  Vile — sepulchrum.** 

^  In  lieu  of  fuXov,  it  has  been  proposed  to  read  fieXt^ov^  "  greater." 
But  neither  word  seems  to  be  sufficiently  forcible. 


Takp  to  thy  bosom,  Earth,  the  dear  remains 
Of  sage  Amyntichus ;  whose  kindly  pains 
Raised  the  given  olives,  train'd  the  clustering  vines. 
And  led  the  irriguous  rill  in  lengthen'd  lines ; 
Nurtured  of  herbs  and  plants  the  tender  shoots, 
And  fill'd  the  garden  with  autumnal  fruits. 
Lie  lightly  on  the  old  man's  hoary  brow, 
And  on  his  grave  let  thy  first  flowerets  blow. 

W.  Shepherd. 


Having  eaten  much,  and  drunk  much,  and  spoken  ill 
of  men  much,  I,  Timocrates  of  Ehodes,  lie  [here]. 

After  much  eating,  drinking,  lying,  slandering, 
Timocreon  of  Rhodes  here  rests  from  wandering. 

J.  H,  M. 


Who  knows  to-morrow's  fate  ?  since  even  thee, 
Charmis,  who  wast  yesterday  in  our  sight,  we  buried 
weeping  the  next  day.  Nothing  more  painful  than  that 
has  (thy)  father  Diophon  seen. 

Who  shall  pretend  to  read  to-morrow's  doom  ? 

O  Charmis,  dear. 
One  day  our  eyes  beheld  thee  in  thy  bloom. 
The  next  we  laid  thee  weeping  in  the  tomb. 
Ne'er  knew  thy  sire  a  sorrow  so  severe.     J.  W.  B. 



I,  Timon  the  man-hater,  dwell  within.  *  But  do  you 
pass  by,  having  bidden  me  to  sorrow  much.*  Only 
pass  on. 

*  This  Epigram  is  attributed  to  Hegesippus  in  the  Vatican  MS.,  where 
it  is  preceded  by  anodier  distich.  It  is  assigned  to  Callimachua  by  Plu- 
tarch in  the  Life  of  Antony,  T.  L  p.  649.  B. 

2 — s  In  the  Eton  Extracts  the  passage  is  thus  read,  dXXd  TrapeXOc, 
OtfuiiZHv  ilvac  TToXXd,  irapeXOe  ftdvov,    Jacobs  more  correctly,  &\Xd 

ETow  sELscnoir.  121 


Timon^  for  thou  art  not^  which  is  to  thee  hateful  ? 
darkness  or.  light  ?  Darkness ;  for  in  the  grave  there 
are  more  of  you. 

OXXV. 4      22  — 



I  Dionysius,  of  Tarsus,  lie  here,  aixty  years  old, 
having  never  married ;  and  I  wish  my  father  had  not. 

CXXVn.   WESTMINSTEB,    1  BOOK,  77  EP. 


This  is  the  dust  of  Timas ;  whom  dying  before  mar- 
riage the  livid  bed  of  Proserpine  received;  and  for 
whom,  when  dead,  all  her  fellows  in  age  did  with  the 
newly-sharpened  copper  [steel]  cut  down  the  cherished 
locks  of  their  head. 

This  dust  was  Timas' ;  ere  her  bridal  hour 
She  lies  in  Proserpina's  gloomy  bower ; 
Her  virgin  playmates  from  each  lovely  head 
Cut  with  sharp  steel  their  locks,  the  strewments  for  the 
dead.  Elton. 

Of  Timas  this  the  dust.     The  livid  bed 

Of  Proserpine  received  th'  unmarried  dead ; 

Their  cherish'd  locks  her  equals  with  sharp  steel 

Cut  off,  to  show  how  keen  the  pangs  they  feeL      C  B. 

irdpeXOt,  Olfna^nv  tlirag  woWd,  where  tWac  is  the  Alexandrine  aor.  1, 
particip.  for  cittwv,  aor.  2.  To  this  he  was  led  by  Callimach.  Ep.  39,  where 
Timon  says,  Mi)  x^^'P^^^  dvyg  fit,  Kaxbv  Ksap,  dWd  ir&ptkBi :  for  /ii) 
Xaiptiv  AvyQ  fu  means  the  same  as  oifibt^iv  tliraQ  ttoKKA. 




Stranger,  I  am  Aretemias;  Cnidus  my  country;  I 
came  to  the  bed  of  Euphron;  I  was  not  without  my 
share  of  labour-pains.  But  after  bringing  forth  two 
children  at  the  same  time,  I  left  one  to  be  the  foot-guide 
of  my  husband  in  old  age ;  the  other  I  take  away,  as  a 
memorial  of  my  husband. 


cxxxn.  1     —     46  — 

cxxxm.  2     —     67  — 


Hippocrates  of  Thessaly,  from  a  family  of  Cos,  lies 
here,  descended  from  the  immortal  root  of  Phoebus,  after 
erecting,  by  the  weapons  of  Hygaea  (health),  many  tro- 
phies over  diseases,  [and]  obtaining  a  great  reputation, 
not  by  chance,  but  skill. 


With  bird-lime  and  sticks  Eumelus  fed  himself  from 
the  air  [birds  of  the  air],  slightly,  but  in  freedom.  And 
never  did  he  kiss  a  stranger's  hand  for  the  sake  of  his 
belly.  This  [occupation]  brought  him  luxury,  this  hi- 
larity. And  after  living  to  his  thrice  thirtieth  year,  he 
sleeps  here,  leaving  to  his  children  his  bird-lime,  and 
birds,  and  sticks. 

With  reeds  and  bird-lime  from  the  desert  air 
Eumelus  gather'd  free,  though  scanty,  fare. 
No  lordly  patron's  hand  he  deign'd  to  kiss ; 
Nor  luxury  knew,  save  liberty,  nor  bHss. 


Thrice  thirty  years  Tie  lived,  and  to  his  heirs 

His  reeds  bequeath'd,  his  bird-lime,  and  his  snares. 

W.  C. 


I  am  the  tomb  of  a  shipwrecked  sailor :  the  one  oppo- 
site is  of  a  farm-labourer.  How  imder  sea  and  land  is 
there  a  common  Hades. 

This  is  a  sailor's,  that  a  ploughman's  tomb : 

Thus  sea  and  land  abide  one  common  doom.     F.  H. 

This  is  a  sailor's,  that  a  peasant's  tomb. 

'Neath  sea  and  land  there  lurks  one  common  doom. 

R.  C.  C. 


CXXXVn.   WESTMINSTEB,   2   BOOK,  51  BP. 


Lycus  of  Naxus  died  not  upon  land,  but  saw  his  ship 
and  life  at  the  same  time  lost  in  the  sea,  while  he  was 
sailing  as  a  trader  from  ^gina.  And  he  is  indeed  a 
corpse  in  the  water ;  but  I  bearing  in  vain  ^  the  name  of 
a  tomb  proclaim  this  thoroughly  true  word — Fly,  sailor, 
from  mixing  yourself  up  with  the  sea,  while  the  JKids* 
are  setting. 


Hatefiil  to  sailors  is  a  voyage  during  the  time  of 
Arcturus.*  Through  ajieavy^  storm  it  brought  bitter 
death  to  Aspasius,  by  whose  tomb  thou  art,  a  traveller, 

'  On  the  use  of  aXXofc*  "  in  vain,"  or  "  merely,"  see  Ruhnken  on 
TimsBus,  p.  199. 

*  According  to  Horace,  the  "  ssevus — ^impetus — orlentis  Hsedi,*^*  brings 
with  it  foul  weather.  Both  expressions  are  correct ;  for  the  constellation 
of  the  Kids  is  visible  in  the  northern  hemisphere  about  the  autumnal 

*  On  the  Arcturus,  a  star  found  near  the  tail  of  the  Greater  Bear,  see 
Pfaff,  quoted  by  Goeller  on  Thucyd.  ii.  78. 

*  The  Vat.  MS.  has  fioptirie,  "  from  the  north,**  which  is  a  preferable 


passing ;   but  the  sea  has  hid  his  body,  wetted'  by  the 
^gean  Sea. 

Sailor,  ask  not  of  whom  I  am  the  tomb  here ;  but  meet 
yourself  with  a  kinder  ocean. 

Seek  not,  O  mariner,  to*  learn  whose  tomb  it  is  you  see ; 
But  to  yourself  may  ocean  prove  more  gentle  than  to  me. 

H.  W. 

Sailor,  ask  not,  whose  tomb  is  at  thy  feet ; 

But  may*st  thou  with  the  ocean  kinder  meet.       G.  B. 


Philip  a  father  placed  here  his  boy  Nicoteles,  twelve 
years  old,  his  great  hope. 

In  the  morning  we  buried  Melanippus ;  and  as.  the 
sun  was  setting  Basilo  died  a  virgin  by  her  own  hand. 
For  to  live,  after  placing  her  brother  on  the  pyre,  she  did 
not  endure,  and  the  house  of  their  father  Aristippus  be- 
held a  double  ill,  and  the  whole  of  Cyr^n^  became 
dejected,  on  seeing  the  house  of  those  blessed  with  chil- 
dren [now]  bereft. 

At  dawn  we  look'd  upon  Melanippus  dying ; 

At  eve,  self-slain,  his  sister's  form  was  lying. 

"  How  shall  this  loving  heart  alone  live  on,'* 

The  maiden  cried,  "my  Melanippus  gone?" 

A  parent's  hope  was  hud  for  ever  low. 

And  all  Cyrene  wept  the  double  blow.  J.  W.  B. 

We  buried  him  at  dawn  of  day ; 
Ere  set  of  sun  his  sister  lay, 

Self-slaughter'd  by  his  side. 
Poor  Basilo !  she  could  not  bear 
Longer  to  breathe  the  vital  air. 

When  Melanippus  died. 

>  The  Vat.  MS.  pai6fuvov,  "broken/'  which  is  more  graphic  than 


Thus  in  one  fatal  hour  was  left, 
Of  both  a  parent's  hope  bereft, 

Their  desolated  sire ; 
While  all  Cyrene  moum'd  to  see 
The  blossoms  of  the  stateliest  tree 

Bj  one  fell  blight  expire.  J.  H.  M« 


No  longer,  Orpheus,  shall  you  lead  oaks  charmed,  no 
longer  rocks,  nor  flie  self-pastured  herds  of  wild  beasts. 
No  longer  shall  you  put  to  sleep  the  roar  of  the  winds, 
or  hail,  or  flie  wreaths  of  snow,  or  the  booming  sea.  For 
you  are  dead:  and  much  have  the  daughters  of  Mne- 
mosyn^  [the  Muses]  lamented  you,  and  chiefly  your  mo- 
ther Calliop^.  Why  do  we  moan  over  our  own  sons, 
when  dead  ?  since  even  to  the  deities  there  is  not  a  power 
to  ward  off  Hades  from  their  children. 

No  longer,  Orpheus,  shall  thy  sacred  strains 

Lead  oaks,  and  rocks,  and  beasts  along  the  plains ; 

No  longer  put  the  boisterous  winds  to  sleep, 

Or  still  the  billows  of  the  raging  deep. 

For  thou  art  gone.     The  Muses  mourn'd  thy  fall 

In  solemn  strains ;  thy  mother  most  of  all. 

Ye  mortals,  idly  for  your  sons  ye  moan. 

Since  thus  a  goddess  could  not  save  her  own. 

Anon.  Spectator. 

No  more,  sweet  Orpheus,  shalt  thou  lead  along 
Oaks,  rocks,  and  savage  monsters  with  thy  song ; 
Fetter  the  winds,  the  struggling  hail-storm  chdn. 
The  snowy  desert  soothe,  and  sounding  main. 
For  Ihou  art  dead.     The  Muses  o'er  thy  bier. 
Sad  as  a  parent,  pour  the  tuneful  tear. 
Weep  we  a  child  ?    Not  e'en  the  gods  can  save 
Their  glorious  offspring  from  the  hated  grave.       Bl. 



CXLV.    ION. 

This  is  not  a  memorial  of  you,  Euripides,  but  you  of 
it.     For  in  your  glory  is  this  memorial  clothed. 



May  the  ivy,  with  its  four-bunch  of  flowers,  flourish 
around  thee,  Anacreon,  and  the  delicate  petals  of  purpled 
meadows ;  and  may  foimtains  of  white  milk  be  squeezed 
out,  and  pleasant  wine  be  poured  out  sweet-smelling  from 
the  earth,  so  that  thy  ashes  and  bones  may  receive  plea- 
sure— ^if  indeed  any  pleasant  feeling  touches  closely  the 

Grow,  clustering  ivy,  where  Anacreon  lies ; 
There  may  soft  buds  from  purple  meadows  rise ; 
Gush,  milky  springs,  the  poet's  turf  to  lav6, 
And  fragrant  wine  flow  joyous  from  his  grave. 
Thus  charm'd  his  bones  shall  press  their  narrow  bed. 
If  aught  of  pleasure  ever  reach  the  dead.  Bl. 

CXLVni.   WESTMINSTER,  3  BOOK,  67  EP. 
CLXIX.  4      —       6   — 

Thyrsis,  the  villager,  he  who  tends  the  cattle  of  the 
Nymphs,  Thyrsis,  who  plays  on  the  reeds  equal  to 
Pan,  is  sleeping  in  the  open  air,  drunk  with  wine,  under 
a  shady  pine-tree.  But  Love,  having  taken  his  crook,  is 
watching  himself  the  flock.  Ho,  Nymphs,  Nymphs, 
awake  up  the  herdsman,  bold  as  a  wolf,  lest  Love  be- 
come a  prey  to  wild  beasts. 

Thyrsis,  employed  by  Nymphs  their  flocks  to  feed, 
Thyrsis,  who  Pan  could  equal  on  the  reed, 


Drunken^  mid-day  under  a  pine  doth  sleep, 

And  Cupid  bears  the  crook  and  tends  the  sheep. 

Awake,  ye  Nymphs,  awake  the  shepherd  bold, 

Or  wolves  will  bear  off  Cupid  with  the  fold.         T.  F. 


1,  Micylus,  had  from  small  naeans  a  scanty  living,  com- 
mitting no  dreadful  act,  nor  injuring  a  single  person,  O 
beloved  Earth.  If  I  have  praised  any  tning  wicked, 
may  neither  you  be  light  [upon  me],  nor  the  other  deities, 
who  now  possess  me. 


Small  truly  is  the  tomb ;  but  see  the  renown  of  this 
the  much-thoughtful  Thales  stretches  to  heaven. 


All  the  Persians  know,  Miltiades,  your  warlike  deeds; 
and  Marathon  is  of  your  valour  the  holy  ground. 

Miltiades,  thy  victories 

Must  every  Persian  own ; 
And  hallow'd  by  thy  prowess  lies 

The  field  of  Marathon.  H.  W. 

CLIV.   WESTMINSTER,    1  BOOK,   68  EP. 


I  am  Heracleitus.  Why  do  you,  illiterate  persons, 
*  drag  me  down  ?^     I  did  not  labour  for  you,  but  for  those 

* — *  Brunck  explains  kcitu)  JXwre  by  saying  that "  to  drag  down  **  is  "  to 
read:"  for  as  works  were  formerly  written  on  parchment  rolls,  it  was 
necessary  to  drag  down  the  roll,  to  enable  a  person  to  read  its  contents ;  and 
he  refers  to  Salmasius  in  Exercitat  Plinian.  p.  278,  and  Isaac  Vossius  on 
Catullus,  p.  51. 


who  know  me.  One  man  ^  is  to  me  [as]  thirty  thousand ; 
but  the  numberless  [as]  not  one.  This  I  say  even  by 
the  side  of  Proserpine. 


A  staff  and  scrip  and  a  garment  twice  folded  were  the 
very  light  load  of  life  to  l3iogenes  the  wise. 

CLVn.   WESTMINSTEK,   3  BOOK,    66  EP. 


I  Epictetus  was  a  slave^  and  maimed  in  body^  and  an 
Irus  ^  in  poverty,  and  beloved  by  the  immortals. 

A  slave  was  Epictetus,  who  before  thee  buried  lies, 
And  a  cripple,  and  a  beggar,  and  the  favourite  of  the  skies. 

G.  S. 

OLIX.   WESTaONSTER,   2  BOOK,   63  EP. 


Not  without  skill  did  Cimon  paint  these ;  but  there  is 
present  to  every  work  Momus/  whom  not  the  hero  Dae- 
dalus has  escaped. 


Why,  neat-herd,  do  you  force  me  to  run  on  ?     Refrain 

^  By  the  **  one  man  "  Heraclitus  perhaps  alluded  to  Socrates,  who  was 
one  of  the  few,  who  fully  appreciated  the  sayings  of  "the  dark  "  philoso- 
pher, as  he  was  called.  According  to  Seneca  in  Epist.  vii.  it  was  not 
Heraclitus,  but  Democritus,  who  said-^"  Unus  mihi  pro  populo  est,  et 
populus  pro  uno." 

■  On  the  Homeric  Irus,see  Od.  xviii. 

'  By  Momus  is  meant  the  spirit  of  blame  personified. 

*  The  cow  of  Myro  was  probably  lo,  represented  as  being  goaded  by 
the  ghost  of  the  neat-herd  Argus.    See  ^sch.  Prom.  583. 


from  goading  me.     Art  has  not  given  me  this  power 
likewise  [i.  e.  to  run]. 


He  who  formerly  banquetted  with  the  blest  [gods], 
he  who  frequently  filled  his  belly  with  the  draught  of 
nectar^  now  desires  a  mortal  drop.  But  the  envious 
mixture  is  ever  lower  than  his  lip.  The  carving  says, 
*^  Drink,  and  learn  the  orgies  of  silence.  We  who  are 
forward  with  the  tongue  are  punished  thus." 

He  who  with  gods  once  feasted,  he  who  qua^Td 

E'en  to  satiety  the  nectar  draught, 

Seeks  now  the  drink  of  mortals ;  but,  than  lips 

Lower,  the  envious  mixture  ever  dips. 

"Drink,"  says  the  carving,  "and  the  orgies  learn 

Of  silence :  thus  with  thirst  the  talkers  bum."     G.  B. 


You  behold,  friend.  Echo  of  the  rocks,  the  mistress 
of  Pan,  who  will  send  back  a  voice  the  counterpart  [of 
yours],  the  talking  resemblance  of  all  kinds  of  mouths,  a 
pleasant  plaything  for  shepherds.  Do  you,  after  hear- 
ing what  you  are  saying,  depart. 

Echo,  rock-dweller  and  Pan's  mistress,  friend, 

Thou  seest ;  who  voice  can  back  reflected  send,"* 

Of  varied  sounds  the  image ;  and  a  fun 

To  shepherds.    Hearing  what  thou  say*st,  off  run.  G.  B. 


To  you,  Venus,  I  have  put  up  a  very  beautiful  statue 
of  your  form,  holding  nothing  superior  to  your  figure. 

Thine  own  fair  form's  sweet  image,  Venus,  take. 
Than  this  no  choicer  offering  could  I  make.         G.  Bo. 

CLXV.    WESTMINSTER,   2  BOOK,  82  EP. 



Some  one  was  praying  to  a  wooden  Hermes ;  and  it 
was  [still]  wood  [insensible].  He  then  lifted  it  up,  and 
dashed  it  on  the  ground ;  when  from  it,  being  broken, 
there  flowed  gold.  An  act  of  insolence  frequently  brings 


The  modeller  designed  a  very  step-mother.  On  this 
account  he  has  not  introduced  milk  into  an  illegitimate 



It  is  meet  for  him,  who  goes  within  a  temple,  to  be 
chaste.     Now  chastity  is  to  have  holy  thoughts. 


Either  such  water  produced  Cytherea  [Venus],  or 
Cytherea  made  the  water  such,  when  she  was  washing 
her  skin. 

*  A  similar  story  in  ^sop's  Fables. 

^  Jacobs  justly  calls  this  a  stupid  Epigram.    But  perhaps  the  author 
"wrote — 

Ei;  Trjv  utjTpviriv  Tix^^o-"^^*  TOvvtKa  fiaZf 
Elf  voOov  6  irXaffTtJQ  ov  vpookOtjKB  ydXa. 

i.  e.  Well  did  the  modeller  design  the  step-mother.  On  this  account  he 
has  not  introduced  into  the  breast  milk  for  an  illegitimate  [child].  For 
the  bosom  was  probably  represented  in  a  dried-up  and  shrivelled  state. 
By  the  slight  change  of  aijTtjv  into  ei;  tjjv,  and  fia^ifv  into  fiai^tf,  it  is 
hoped  all  is  rendered  intelligible. 


Or  from  this  foant,  a  joyous  birth, 

The  Qaeen  of  Beauty  rose  to  earUi ;       <. 

Or  heavenly  Venus,  bathing,  gave 

Her  own  quintessence  to  the  wave.     Bl. 


Feel  no  ill-will  against  little  thinffs.  A  Grace  follows 
what  is  little.  Even  Love,  the  child  of  the  Paphian 
[Venus],  was  little. 

Why  should  little  things  be  blamed  ? 
Little  things  for  grace  are  famed. 
Love,  the  winged  and  the  wild, 
Love  is  but  a  little  child.  T.  P.  R. 

The  Cyprian  [Venus],  after  washing  herself  here,  in 
company  with  the  Graces  and  her  son  with  the  golden 
dart,  gave  beauty  [to  the  bath]  as  a  reward. 



A  sweet  strain,  by  Pan  the  Arcadian,  playest  thou 
with  the  quill,  Zenophila;  acutely  do  you  give  out  a 
pleasant  strain.  Whither  shall  I  fly  from  you?  On 
every  side  loves  stand  around,  nor  do  they  permit  me 
to  recover  my  breath  for  even  a  little  time.  Either  your 
form  throws  desire  on  mo,  or  again  your  music,  or  grace, 
or — ^what  shall  I  say — all  [together]  I  am  burning  with 

By  Pan,  Arcadia's  god,  I  swear 

Sweet  are  the  notes  thy  fingers  move ; 

Most  sweet,  Zenophila,  the  air 
Thou  hymn'st ;  it  spsaks  of  love. 
K  2 


How  shall  I  fly  ?     On  every  side 

The  wanton  Cupids  round  me  throng ; 
Nor  give  me  space  to  breathe,  while  tied 

A  listener  to  thy  song. 
Whether  her  beauty  wakes  desire, 

Her  tuneful  voice,  her  winning  art, 
What  shall  I  say  ?    All,  all.     The  fire 

Is  kindled  in  my  heart.  J.  H.  M. 



Said  I  not,  Prodic^,  we  axe  growing  old  ?  Did  I  not 
foretell  that  quickly  would  come  the  love-dissolvers  ? 
Now  [are]  wrinkles,  and  hoary  hair,  and  a  rag-like  body, 
and  a  mouth  no  longer  possessing  its  former  charms.  Does 
any  one  come  to  you,  lifted  up  [by  airs],  or  after  flatter- 
ing make  a  request  ?  We  pass  by  you,  as  if  you  were 
a  tomb. 

Did  I  not  warn  thee,  Prodice,  that  time 

Would  soon  divide  thee  from  the  youthful  throng ; 
Feed  pn  the  blooming  damask  of  thy  prime. 

And  scatter  wrinkles,  as  he  pass'd  along  ? 
The  hour  is  come.     For  who  with  amorous  song 

Now  woos  thy  smile,  or  celebrates  thy  bloom  ? 
See  from  thy  presence  how  the  gay  and  young 

Retiring  turn,  and  shrink  as  from  the  tomb.       Bl. 

Said  I  not,  Prodice,  that  we  grow  old  ? 

That  love-destroyers  quickly  come,  't  was  told. 

In  wrinkles,  hoary  head,  rough  body,  face 

No  more  possessing  of  past  times  the  grace. 

Who  to  thee,  haughty,  comes  now,  aught  to  crave. 

Or  flatter  ?    Thee  we  pass  by,  as  a  grave.  G.  B. 


The  playinjg,  and  talking,  and  roguish  eye,  and  sing- 
ing of  Xanthipp^,  and  the  flame  just  commencing,  will 
thee,  my  soul,  consume.    But  from  what  event,  or  when. 


or  how,  I  do  not  kaow.    Thou  wilt  know,  hapless,  when 
burnt  up. 

The  strains  that  flow  from  young  Aminta's  lyre, 
Her  tongue's  soft  voice  and  melting  eloquence, 
Her  sparkling  eyes,  that  glow  with  fond  desire, 
Her  warbliug  notes,  that  chain  the  admiring  sense, 
Subdue  my  soul,  I  know  not  how  or  whence. 
Too  soon  it  will  be  known,  when  all  my  soul's  on  fire. 

J.  H.  M. 
Xanthippe's  lyre,  her  voice,  and  eye, 

That  luring  eye,  this  kindling  glow. 
Will  burn  thee,  soul ;  whence,  when,  or  why, 
I  know  not ;  thou  in  flames  wilt  know.     G.  Bo. 

CLXXX.  3      —     45  — 


Callignotus  swore  to  lonis  that  he  would  never  have 
a  male  or  female  friend  dearer  than  her.  He  swore  so. 
But  they  say  truly  that  Hhe  oaths  [made]  in  lOve  never 
enter  into  the  ears  of  the  immortals.^  But  now  he  is 
warmed  with  the  flame  of  another  [fair] ;  but  of  the 
hapless  nymph  there  is,  as  ^of  the  Megareans,  no  ac- 
count or  number.^ 

Once  Callignotus  to  lonis  swore. 

Than  her  to  love  no  charming' maiden  more. 

But  men  say  truly  that  the  oaths  of  love 

Ne'er  the  ears  enter  of  the  powers  above. 

Now  with  another  flame  he  fiercely  bums. 

And  her  unvalued  holds  and  coldly  spurns.         G.  B. 


While  wreathing  a  garland  I  once  found  Love  amongst 
the  roses ;    and  laying  hold  of  him  by  the  wings  I  dipt 

* — *  So  Shakspeare.    "  At  lovers*  perjuries  they  say  Jove  laughs.'* 
a — ^  On  this  proverb  see  Heindorf  on  Hipp.  Maj.  §  19,  and  Baum- 
garten  Crusius  on  Philebus,  §  21. 


him  in  the  wine ;    and  taking  it  I  drank  it.      And  now 
within  my  limbs  he  tickles  me  with  his  feathers. 

As  a  rosy  wreath  1  bound, 

'Mongst  the  roses  Love  I  found : 

Swift  I  seized  his  pinions  fast, 

And  in  wine  the  wanton  cast. 

Taking  then  the  laughing  cup, 

Swift  I  drank  the  wanton  up. 

Now  with  eyer-tickling  wings 

Up  and  down  my  breast  he  springs.      J.  Addisok. 

While  for  my  fair  a  wreath  I  twined, 
Love  in  the  roses  lay  reclined. 
I  seized  the  boy.     The  mantling  cup 
Received  him,  and  I  drank  him  up. 
And  now  confined  the  feather'd  guest 
Beats,  storms,  and  flutters  in  mj  breast. 

C.  J.  Blomfield. 

All  things  of  yours  I  love ;   but  I  dislike  alone  your 
ill-judging  eye,  that  is  pleased  with  men  hateful  [to  me]. 

CLXXXrV.   WESTMINSTEB,   2   BOOK,   90  EP. 

That  man  is  the  very  best,  who  knows  himself  all 
things.  He  too  is  good,  who  yields  to  a  person  who 
speaks  correctly.  But  he,  who  neither  knows  himself, 
nor  determines  in  his  mind  to  listen  to  another,  that  man 
is  on  the  contrary  useless. 



Your  sire,  Hercules,  has  given  an  honourable  return 
to  the  sweat  [exertion]  of  your  valour;  since  labour 
knows  how  to  bring  an  unbounded  boasting  to  men, 
after  an  endless  circle  of  contests. 

ETON  selection;  135 

Let  no  person  persuade  you,  Cjmus,  to  love  a  bad 
man.  Of  what  use  is  that  man  in  being  a  friend  ?  He 
would  neither  defend  you  from  a  difficult  trouble  and 
calamity,  nor  be  willing,  while  possessing  a  good,  to 
share  it.  In  the  case  of  him  who  does  a  good  to  bad 
persons,  the  favour  is  most  vain.  It  is  equal  to  sowing 
the' sea  of  the  white  ocean.  For  neither  in  sowing  the 
sea  would  you  reap  a  rich  harvest,  nor  in  doing  good  to 
the  bad  would  you  receive  any  good  in  return.  For  the 
bad  have  a  feeling  not  to  be  satisfied.  Should  you  fail 
in  one  thing,  the  friendship  arising  from  all  previous 
acts  is  poured  out  [lost].  But  the  good,  who  derive  the 
greatest  advantage  during  their  suffering,  preserve  a  re- 
membrance of  the  good  done,  and  a  gratitude  for  the 
future.  Never  make  the  bad  man  your  friend  and  com- 
panion, but  ever  avoid  him  as  a  bad  [unsafe]  haven. 
Many  are  the  companions  in  drinking  and  eating; 
but  in  a  serious  matter  rather  few. 

Let  no  persuasive  art  tempt  you  to  place 

Your  confidence  in  crafty  minds  and  base. 

How  can  it  answer  ?  Will  their  help  avail, 

When  danger  presses,  and  your  foes  assail  ? 

The  blessing,  which  the  gods  in  bounty  send, 

Will  they  consent  to  share  it  with  a  friend  ? 

No.     To  bestrew  the  waves  with  scatter'd  grain, 

To  cultivate  the  surface  of  the  main, 

Is  not  a  task  more  absolutely  vain, 

Than  cultivating  such  allies  as  these, 

Fickle,  and  unproductive  as  the  seas. 

Such  are  all  baser  minds.     Never  at  rest, 

With  new  demands  importunately  press'd, 

A  new  pretension  or  a  new  request ; 

Till  foil'd  with  the  refusal  of  the  last, 

They  disavow  their  obligations  past. 

But  brave  and  gallant  hearts  are  cheaply  gain'd. 

Faithful  adherents,  easily  retain'd ; 

Men,  that  will  never  disavow  the  debt 

Of  gratitude,  or  cancel  or  forget. 


Never  engage  with  a  poltroon  or  craven ; 
Avoid  him,  Kurnus,  as  a  treach'rous  haven ; 
Those  friends  and  hearty  comrades,  as  you  think, 
Ready  to  join  you,  when  you  feast  and  drink. 
Those  easy  friends  from  difficulty  shrink.         Frere. 


Be  willing  to  live  piously  with  little  means^  [rather] 

than  to  be  wealthy,  having  obtained  property  unjustly. 

All  virtue,  [to  speak]  comprehensively, consists  in  justice; 

and  every  man,  Cymus,  is  good  by  being  just.    Fortune 

gives  wealth  even  to  a  thoroughly  bad  man  ;  but  virtue, 
yrnus,  follows  a  few  men.  Satiety  begets  insolence, 
when  wealth  attends  upon  a  bad  man  and  one,  to  whom 
there  is  not  a  sound  mind.  Never  do  thou,  having  been 
annoyed,  lay  to  the  charge  of  a  person  his  poverty,  that 
destroys  feelings,  nor  his  wretched  want  of  means.  For 
Zeus  turns  the  balance  to  one  person  on  one  side  and 
on  another  to  another,  so  as  to  be  wealthy  at  one  time, 
and  to  have  nothing  at  another.  Never,  Cyrnus,  speak  a 
big  word.  For  not  a  single  person  knows  what  a  night 
and  day  will  bring  to  pass  to  a  man. 

A  part  of  this  extract  is  thus  translated  by  Frere — 

Wealth  nurses  Insolence ;  and  wealth  we  find, 
When  coupled  with  a  poor  and  paltry  mind, 
'     Is  evermore  with  Insolence  combined. 
Never  in  anger  with  the  meaner  sort 
Be  moved  to  .a- contemptuous  harsh  retort, 
Deriding  their  distresses,  nor  despise 
In  hasty  speech  their  wants  and  miseries. 
Jove  holds  the  balance,  and  the  gods  dispense 
For  all  mankind  riches  and  indigence. 


We  seek,  Cyrnus,  rams  and  asses  and  well-bred  horses, 
and  one  wishes  them  to  come  from  a  good  stock.  But  a 
good  man  cares  not  to  marry  the  bad  [daughter]  of  a 
bad  [father],  if  he  [the  father]  gives  him  [the  man]  much 


wealth.  Nor  does  any  [woman]  refuse  to  be  the  wife  of 
a  bad  man  of  wealth ;  but  she  wishes  a  rich  instead  of  a 
poor  [man].  Persons  honour  wealth.  A  good  man  has 
married  out  of  a  bad  [family],  and  a  bad  one  out  of  a 
good.     Wealth  has  mingled  the  race. 

With  kine  and  horses,  Kumus,  we  proceed 

By  reasonable  rules,  and  choose  a  breed 

For  profit  and  increase,  at  any  price, 

Of  a  sound  stock,  without  defect  or  vice. 

But  in  the  daily  matches  that  we  make 

The  price  is  every  thing.     For  money's  sake 

Men  marry ;  women  are  in  marriage  given ; 

The  churl  or  ruffian,  that  in  wealth  has  thriven, 

May  match  his  offspring  with  the  proudest  race : 

Thus  every  thing  is  mix'd,  noble  and  base.       Fbers. 


Wealth  to  the  man,  to  whom  it  comes  from  Zeus 
and  with  justice,  ever  flourishes  purely  and  abidingly. 
But  if  a  man  with  a  mind  loving  gain,  shall  possess  it 
unjustly  [and]  unseasonably,  or  through  an  oath,  having 
laid  hold  of  it  contrary  to  right,  he  seems  indeed  for  the 
instant  to  carry  off  some  gain ;  but  at  the  end  there  is,  on 
the  other  hand,  an  evil.  The  mind  of  the  gods  has  the 


Of  riches  no  end  has  been  laid  down  for  man.  For 
such  of  us  as  have  the  greatest  means  of  living  hasten 
[to  get]  twice  as  much.  Who  shall  satisfy  all  ?  Money 
to  mortals  becomes  a  madness. 

The  bad  have  been  bom  altogether  bad  from  the 
womb ;  but  by  having  formed  a  friendship  with  bad  men 
they  have  learned  deeds  of  ill,  and  words  of  ill,  and  in- 
solence, thinking  that  they  [the  bad]  are  saying  all  that 
is  true. 



Many  bad  persons  are  rich,  while  the  good  are  poor. 
But  we  will  not  change  with  them  their  wealth  for  our 
virtue,  since  the  one  is  firm  for  ever  ;  but  wealth  some- 
times one,  and  sometimes  another  possesses.  A  good 
man,  Cyrnus,  preserves  his  mind  ever  firm,  and  is  bold, 
lying  either  in  a  good  or  bad  state.  But  if  a  deity  gives 
to  a  bad  man  the  means  of  living  and  wealth,  he  is  un- 
able through  his  folly  to  restrain  his  wickedness. 


Hasten  after  nothing  too  much.  A  fitting  time  is  the 
best  for  all  acts  of  man.  Often  does  a  person  hasten  to 
virtue,  while  seeking  gain,  whom  a  deity  pn  set  purpose 
leads  astray  to  a  great  mistake,  and  causes  things  easily 
to,  seem  to  him  to  be  good,  which  are  [really]  evil,  and 
those  to  be  evil,  which  ^ire  useful. 

Schemes  unadvisable  and  out  of  reason 

Are  best  adjourn'd.     Wait  for  a  proper  season. 

Time  and  a  fair  conjuncture  govern  all. 

Hasty  ambition  hurries  to  a  fall ; 

A  fall  predestined  and  ordain'd  by  heaven. 

By  a  judicial  blindness  madly  driven, 

Mistaking  and  confounding  good  and  evil, 

Men  lose  their  senses,  as  they  lose  their  level.     Frebe. 


Oh,  wretched  Poverty,  why  do  you  hesitate  to  leave 
me  and  to  go  to  another.  Why  do  you  love  me  not 
wishing  for  you  ?  But  come,  depart  to  another  house ; 
nor  share  with  us  perpetually  this  wretched  life. 

Why  linger  here,  sad  Poverty  ?  Go,  dwell 

With  whom  thou  wilt,  I  woo  thee  not ;  farewelL 

Go  seek  another  home,  nor  stay  with  me, 

Only  to  share  this  life  of  misery.  H.  W. 



Opinion  is  to  men  a  great  evil ;  but  a  trial  the  best 
thing.     Many  have  an  opinion  of  good  things  untried. 

Do  not,  diseased  in  mind,  be  grieved  at  ills,  nor  be 
delighted  at  good  things  on  a  sudden,  before  seeing  the 
extreme  end.  Many  suly  persons  has  satiety  destroyed ; 
for  it  is  difficult  to  know  moderation,  when  good  things 
are  present. 


To  a  person  doin^  a  kindness  to  cowards  there  are 
two  evils.  For  he  will  deprive  himself  of  many  things 
belonging  to  himself,  and  there  [will  be]  no  thanks 
[to  him]. 


Do  not  praise,  before  you  know  a  person  clearly,  his 
temper,  and  measure  [of  life]  and  conduct,  whatever  it 
may  be.  Many,  having  a  manner,  like  base  [coin  and] 
deceitful,  conceal  it,  assuming  feelings  for  the  day.  But 
the  habit  of  each  of  all  these  time  shows  forth.  For  I 
have  been  very  far  from  judgment ;  and  I  have  gone  on 
in  praising,  before  I  knew  all  your  habits.  But  now,  as 
a  ship,  I  sheer  off  at  a  distance. 

Oh  Timagoras,  it  is  difficult  for  a  person  looking  from 
a  distance  to  know  the  temper  of  many  persons,  although 
he  is  wise.      For  some  have  concealed  their  wickedness 
by  wealth,  and  others  their  virtue  by  destructive  poverty. 
Though  gifted  with  a  sferewd  and  subtle  ken, 
Timagoras,  the  secret  hearts  of  men, 
You'll  find  it,  are  a  point  hard  to  be  guess'd. 
For  poor  and  shabby  souLs  in  riches  dress'd 
Make  a  fair  show ;  while  indigence  and  care 
Give  to  the  nobler  mind  a  meaner  air.  Frere. 

Hope  is  the  only  kind  deity  to  men.    The  others  have 

140  GREEK  AJ7THOL06T. 

left  and  gone  to  Olympus.  Faith,  a  great  goddess,  has 
gone,  and  gone  the  Temperance  of  men,  and  the  Graces, 
n-iend,  have  left  the  earth.  Just  oaths  are  no  longer 
trusted  amongst  men,  nor  does  a  single  person  regard 
the  immortal  gods.  The  race  of  pious  people  has  per- 
ished ;  nor  do  [men]  know  any  longer  justice  or  piety. 
But  as  long  as  one  lives  and  beholds  the  light  of  the  sun, 
being  pious,  as  regards  the  gods,  let  him  wait  for  Hope. 
And  let  him  pray  to  the  gods,  and,  burning  splendid 
thigh-oflferings,  let  him  sacrifice  to  Hope  the  first  and 
last;  *and  let  him  even  think  upo%the  indirect  language 
of  unjust  men,  who,  paying  no  regard  to  the  immor^ 
gods,  ever  keep  their  thoughts  upon  the  goods  of  others, 
having  made  a  base  compact  by  evil  deecfi.* 

For  human  nature  Hope  remains  alone 

Of  all  the  deities ;  the  rest  are  flown. 

Faith  is  departed ;  Truth  and  Honour  dead ; 

And  all  the  Graces  too,  my  friends,  are  fled. 

The  scanty  specimens  of  living  worth, 

Dwindled  to  nothing,  and  extinct  on  earth. 

Yet  whilst  I  live  and  view  the  light  of  heaven, 

Since  Hope  remains  and  never  has  been  driven 

From  the  distracted  world — the  single  scope 

Of  my  devotion  is  to  worship  Hope. 

When  hecatombs  are  slain,  and  altars  burn, 

When  all  the  deities  adored  in  turn, 

Let  Hope  be  present ;  and  with  Hope,  my  friend, 

Let  every  sacrifice  commence  and  end. 

Yes,  Insolence,  Injustice,  every  crime, 

Bapine  and  Wrong,  may  prosper  for  a  time ; 

Yet  shall  they  travel  on  to  swift  decay, 

Who  tread  the  crooked  path  and  hollow  way.     Frebe. 


No  one  can  by  giving  a  ransom  escape  from  death  or 
even  a  heavy  misfortune,  unless  fate  brings  an  end ;  nor 
can  a  mortal  man  escape,  although  wishing  it,  from  an 
unhappy  state  of  mind,  by  means  of  gifts. 

1 — 1  Such  is  the  usual  version  of  the  words  in  the  text.  But  it  is  dif- 
ficult to  discover  their  connexion  with  the  preceding  matter. 



Ye  Pierian  Muses,  the  splendid  children  of  Memory 
and  Olympian  Jove,  hear  me,  while  praying.  Grant  me 
to  possess  happiness  at  the  hands  of  the  blessed  gods, 
and  ever  a  fair  fame  amongst  all  men ;  and  to  be  pleas- 
ant to  friends,  and  bitter  to  enemies,  and  to  appear  to 
the  former  an  object  of  respect,  and  to  the  latter  of  fear. 
Property  I  desire  indeed  to  possess ;  but  I  do  not  wish 
to  obtain  it  unjustly.  Last  of  all  comes  punishment. 
But  the  wealth  which  the  gods  give,  remains  to  a  man 
firm  from  the  lowest  foundation  to  the  top.  But  that 
which  men  honour,  comes  from  insolence,  and  not 
orderly,  but  obedient  to  unjust  actions.  Nor  does  it 
follow  willingly,  but  it  is  quickly  mixed  up  with 
calamity.  Its  commencement  is  from  a  little,  as  that  of 
fire  is,  trifling  at  first,  but  it  ends  producing  pain  ;  for 
the  acts  of  insolence  do  not  exist  a  long  time  to  mortals. 


To  many  there  is  a  custom  to  contradict  upon  every 
subject  equally;   but  to  contradict  rightly,  this  is  not 
in  their  custom.      Now  to  these  the  old  sajring  is  alone 
sufficient — "This  appears  good  to  you;    that  to  me." 
Any  one  would  by  speaking  well  persuade  most  quickly 
the  intelligent,  who  are  persons  of  the  easiest  instruction. 
To  contradict  alike,  whate'er  is  meant, 
Is  more  in  fashion  than  fair  argument. 
And  to  all  such  the  conmion  phrase  comes  pat — 
"  I  am  of  this  opinion ;  you're  of  that." 
Yet  men  of  sense  at  once  to  sense  give  way, 
As  apprehending  soonest  what  you  say.  H.  W. 


All  hail,  son  of  Saturn,  the  most  highest,  the  giver  of 
good  things,  the  giver  of  a  painless  state.  Your  deeds 
who  shall  hymn  ?  The  person  has  not  been  nor  will  be. 
Who  shall  hymn  the  deeds  of  Jupiter  ?    Hail,  father ! 


hail  again.  Grant  both  virtue  and  wealth ;  for  without 
virtue  wealth  knows  not  how  to  advance  man^  nor  virtue 
without  wealth ;  then  give  thou  both  virtue  and  wealth. 


Bring  not,  ye  bath-water-pourers,  myrrh,  or  boxes 
of  perfume ;  for  Athene  loves  not  a  mixture  of  oint- 
ments, nor  a  mirror ;  her  coimtenance  is  always  lovely. 
Not  even  when  the  Phrygian  adjudged  the  contest  at 
Ida,  did  the  great  goddess  look  into  the  orichalc,  [a 
metal  used  for  mirrors,]  nor  into  the  transparent  water 
of  the  Simois ;  nor  did  Juno ;  but  Venus  took  the  very 
shining  metal,  and  ^  oftentimes  arranged  twice  the  same 




I  wish  to  tell  of  the  Atridae  ;  I  wish  to  sing  of  Cad- 
mus ;  but  with  its  strings  the  lyre  to  Love  alone  gives  a 
sound.  I  lately  changed  the  strings,  and  all  the  lyre. 
And  then  I  sang  (with  my  voice)  the  labours  of  Her- 
cules. But  the  Tyre  spoke  in  return  of  loves.  Farewell 
henceforth,  ye  heroes ;  for  the  lyre  sings  only  of  loves. 

Of  the  Atrides  I  would  sing, 

Of  the  wand'ring  Theban  king. 

But  when  I  my  lute  did  prove, 

Nothing  it  would  sound  but  love. 

I  new  strung  it ;  and  to  play 

Hercules'  labours  did  essay ; 

But  my  pains  I  fruitless  found ; 

Nothing  it  but  love  would  sound. 

Heroes,  then,  farewell ;  my  lute 

To  all  strains  but  love  is  mute.     T.  Stanley. 

Agamemnon,  Menelaus, 

We  would  gladly  sing  of  you ; 

» »  This  union  of  woWaKi  and  dig  seems  rather  strange.   Tibuiius  has 

moie  correctly  "  Saepeque  mutatas  disposuisse  conias."  Did  Caliimachus 
write  IloXXaw  rdv  ravaStv  Bsafid  rkOeiKB  KOfiav,  i.  e.  "  Of  her  long  hair 
the  tie->]aiot  oft  arranged/'  instead  of  IloXXaici  rdv  airdv  Big  fitriOtiKt 


But  the  lyre  will  not  obey  us : 

Its  constant  tone 

Is  love  alone. 
I  tore  the  strings,  I  fitted  new, 

It  would  not  do. 
Away  the  rebel  lyre  I  east ; 

And  on  another 
Boldly  struck  the  combats  glorious 
Of  Alcides  still  >ictorious. 
*Twas  like  the  last. 

For  yet  the  tone 

Was  lore  alone. 
Why,  why  attempt  the  fire  to  smother  ? 

Since  love  alone 

Will  be  the  tone, 
Heroes,  kings,  adieu,  adieu.  Anonymous. 


Once  at  the  hour  of  midnight,  when  the  Bear  was  turn- 
ing at  the  hand  of  Bootes,  and  all  the  tribes  of  voice- 
dividing  [men]  were  lying,  subdued  by  toil,  then  did 
Cupid  standing  by  knock  at  the  bolts  of  my  doors. 
"  Who,"  said  I,  "  is  battering  the  door  ?  you  will  break 
my  dreams."  And  Love  says — "  Open,  I  am  a  child ; 
be  not  alarmed ;  and  I  am  wet ;  and  I  have  been  wan- 
dering through  a  moonless  night."  On  hearing  this  I 
pitied  him.  And  straightway  lighting  a  lamp,  I  opened 
[the  door] ;  and  I  beheld  a  child  bearing  a  bow,  and 
wings,  and  a  quiver.  And  placing  him  by  the  hearth,  I 
warmed  his  hands  in  mine,  and  squeezed  out  the  water 
from  his  wet  hair.  But  he,  when  the  cold  had  left  him, 
says — "  Come,  let  us  try  this  bow,  whether  the  string  is 
at  all  injured  by  having  been  wetted.  And  he  extends 
the  arrow],  and  hits  me  in  the  middle  of  the  liver,  as  if 
le  were  the  sting  of  the  gad-fly.  And  he  leaps  up, 
'.  aughing,  and,  "  Stranger,"  said  he,  "  rejoice  with  me. 
The  horn*  is  uninjured ;  but  you  will  have  a  pain  at  the 

*  The  bows  of  the  ancients,  as  of  some  of  the  modems,  were  tipped  with 
)i«rn.    Hence  a  part  of  the  bow  is  put  for  the  whole. 


'T  was  midnight's  hour ;  the  Bear  tum'd  slow, 

Urged  by  Bootes'  hand  below, 

What  time  the  race  of  men  supine, 

In  heavy  slumber's  lap  recline. 

When  Love  stood  knocking  at  my  gate. 

Who  beats  my  door,  thus  loud  and  late, 

And  scares  my  dreams  ?  "  'Tis  I  am  here — 

Open — a  child ;  you  need  not  fear. 

I  drop  with  wet,  and,  gone  astray 

Through  moonless  night,  have  lost  my  way.'* 

I  melted  as  he  begg'd  so  hard, 

Rose ;  struck  a  light ;  the  door  unbarr'd. 

A  boy  my  threshold  cross'd ;  but  lo ! 

With  wings,  a  quiver,  and  a  bow. 

Near  the  warm  hearth  I  bade  him  stand. 

And  chafed  in  mine  each  tiny  hand ; 

And  wrung  the  ringlets  of  his  hair 

Rain-dropping  on  his  face  so  fair. 

When  by  degrees  the  cold  had  fled, 

"  Come,  let  me  try  the  bow,"  he  said, 

"  If  wet  has  spoil'd  the  flagging  cord." 

He  spoke,  and  twang'd  it  at  the  word. 

The  arrow,  fitted  from  his  quiver, 

Thrill'd,  like  a  gad-fly,  through  my  liver. 

Laughing,  the  urchin  leap'd  aside — 

"  My  kind  host,  give  me  joy,"  he  cried, 

"  My  bow-string  yet  is  trim  and  sound ; 

Your  heart,  I  guess,  will  feel  the  wound." 

C.  A.  Elton. 



The  women  say,  Anacreon,  you  are  old.  Take  a 
mirror  and  behold  the  hairs  no  longer  there ;  and  your 
forehead  is  bare.  But  whether  there  are  hairs  or  they 
are  gone,  I  know  not ;  but  this  I  know,  that  it  becomes 
the  more  for  an  old  man  to  play  at  what  is  pleasant^  by 
how  much  the  nearer  is  the  period  of  fate. 

The  women  say, 

Anacreon,  you're  grown  old ; 


Your  bair  falls  awBj ; 

Take  a  mirror ;  behokl 

Your  forehead  is  bare. 

For  my  hair, 

It  may  go,  gt  it  maj  stay, 

I  know  not,  nor  care. 

This  I  know,  and  will  declare, 

That  an  old  man  acts  predselj 

As  he  ought  to  do,  and  wiselj, 

Prizing  life  and  love  the  dearer, 

As  his  end  approaches  nearer. 



I  wish,  I  wish  to  be  in  love.  Cupid  was  persuading 
me  to  love.  But  I  having  a  mind  not  given  to  advice, 
was  not  persuaded.  And  he  taking  up  instantly  his 
bow  and  golden  quiver,  challenged  me  to  a  fi^ht  And 
I,  taking  on  my  shoulder  a  corslet,  like  Acnilles,  and 
spears,  and  a  bull's  hide  [shield],  fought  with  Cupid. 
He  hit  me;  and  I  fled.  But  when  he  had  his  arrows  no 
longer,  he  was  annoyed,  and  shot  himself  as  an  arrow ; 
and  he  entered  the  middle  of  my  heart,  and  dissolved 

imy  strength].  In  vain  do  I  possess  a  bull's  hide  [shield]. 
?or  why  shotdd  we  be  girt  without,  when  a  battle  occu- 
pies us  within  ? 

I  will,  I  will  Love's  power  ob^. 

Love  woo'd  me  kmg  to  own  his  sway ; 

But  when  with  thoughtless  scorn  elate 

I  mock'd  submission  to  his  state, 

He  snatch'd  his  bow  and  quiver'd  pride, 

And  to  fierce  combat  me  defied. 

In  haste  to  my  defence  I  flew ; 

My  mail  across  my  shoulders  threw ; 

Like  some  Achilles  braved  the  field. 

And  shook  my  spear,  and  grasp'd  my  shield. 

With  Love  I  enter'd  rebel-fight ; 

He  wing'd  his  darts,  I  wing'd  my  flight ; 


Till  having  spent  his  feathered  store, 

When  that  supplied  revenge  no  more, 

Inflamed  with  rage,  a  living  dart 

He  shot  himself  into  my  heart, 

Dissolved  my  soul,  and  revell'd  there. 

In  vain  a  useless  shield  I  wear ; 

An  outward  guard  to  folly  turns, 

When  in  my  hreast  the  battle  bums.         Addison. 



The  Muses  having  bound  Love  with  garlands^  gave 
him  up  to  Beauty.  And  now  Cytherea  fvenus]  seeks, 
by  bringing  a  ransom,  to  set  Love  free,  fiut  should  any- 
one free  hun,  he  will  not  go  away,  but  remain.  He  has 
been  taught  to  be  a  slave. 

Once  the  Muses  Cupid  finding, 

And  in  bonds  of  roses  binding. 

Straight  their  flower-enfetter*d  slav« 

To  the  care  of  Beauty  gave. 

Heavenly  gifts  to  loose  his  chain 

Venus  brings,  but  brings  in  vain ; 

Though  released,  the  god  will  stay ; 

He  has  leam'd  with  pride  t'obey.        Addison. 

Late  the  Muses  Cupid  found, 
,    And  with  wreaths  of  roses  bound, 
Bound  him  fast,  as  soon  as  caught. 
And  to  blooming  Beauty  brought. 
Venus  with  large  ransom  strove 
To  release  the  god  of  love. 
Vain  is  ransom ;  vain  is  fee ; 
Love  refuses  to  be  free. 
Happy  in  his  rosy  chain. 
Love  with  Beauty  will  remain.  Fawkes. 



Once  upon  a  time  Love  did  not  see  a  bee,  while  repos- 
ing amongst  roses,  but  was  wounded ;  and  being  bitten  in 


the  finger  of  his  hand^  he  cried  out ;  and  running  and 
flying  to  the  beautiful  Cytherea  [Venus],  *^  I  am  undone, 
mother,  said  he  ;  I  am  undone,  and  dying.  A  little 
winged  serpent,  that  husbandmen  call  a  bee,  has  wounded 
me.'*  But  she  said,  "  If  the  sting  of  a  bee  gives  pain 
to  you,  how,  think  you.  Love,  do  they  feel  a  pain,  whom 
you  hit?" 

Love  a  bee,  that  lurked  among 
Roses,  saw  not,  and  was  stung ; 
Who  for  his  hurt  finger  crjring, 
Running  sometimes,  sometimes  flying, 
Did  to  fiis  fair  mother  hie ; 
And,  "  Help,"  cried  he,  "  ere  I  die ; 
A  snake  wing'd  has  bitten  me, 
^  Call'd  by  country-folks  a  bee." 
On  which  Venus — "  If  such  smart 
Little  sting  of  bee  impart, 
How  much  greater  is  the  pain. 
Which,  whom  thou  hast  stung,  sustain." 

T.  Stanley. 


We  deem  you.  Cicada,  happy,  because,  having  drunk, 
like  a  king,  a  litde  dew,  you  cnirrup  on  the  top  of  trees. 
For  all  those  things  are  yours,  whatsoever  you  see  in  the 
fields,  and  whatever  the  seasons  produce.  For  you  are 
a  friend  of  land-tillers,  ^from  no  one  doing  any  harm.^ 
You  are  held  in  honour  by  mortals,  as  .me  agreeable 
harbinger  of  summer.  The  Muses  love  you.  rhoebus 
himself  loves  you,  and  has  given  you  a  shrill  song.  And 
old  age  does  not  wear  you  down.  Oh  thou  clever  one, 
earth-born,  song-loving,  without  suffering,  having  flesh 
without  blood,  thou  art  nearly  equal  to  the  gods. 

'  On  the  Cicada,  conlmonly  but  erroneously  translated,  grasshopper, 
see  Eton  Extracts,  Ep.  58. 

* — '  The  Greek  is  Avb  firiSevog  rt  jSXairrwv.  But  the  correct  sjmtax 
would  be  firjdeva  ri  pkdvTwv,  The  sense  seems  to  require  *Avb  firidtvoQ 
rt.  Kkkwrutv,  "  stealing  aught  from  nobody,"  through  its  living  upon 
dew  alone. 

L  2 


On  your  verdant  throne  elate, 

Lovely  insect,  there  in  state, 

Nectai^d  dew  you  sip,  and  sing, 

Like  a  little  happy  king. 

All  thou  seest  so  blooming  fine. 

Lovely  insect,  all  is  thine, 

Which  the  painted  fields  produce, 

Or  the  soft-wing  hours  profuse. 

Swains  adore  thy  guiltless  charms ; 

None  thy  blissful  revel  harms ; 

Thee,  sweet  prophet,  all  revere ; 

Thou  foretell'st  the  ripening  year. 

Thou  by  Muses  art  caress'<5 

Thou  by  golden  Phoebus  bless'd ; 

He  inspired  thy  tuneful  voice ; 

Age  ne'er  interrupts  thy  joys. 

Wisest  oflfepring  of  the  earth. 

Thou  for  nothing  car'st  but  mirth ; 

Free  from  pain,  and  flesh,  and  blood, 

Thou'rt  almost  a  little  god.  Addison. 



It  is  a  hard  thing  not  to  love ;  and  it  is  hard  likewise 
to  love ;  but  the  hardest  of  all  is,  when  loving  to  fail. 
To  Love,  family  is  nothing.  Wisdom,  conduct  is  trodden 
down.  To  money  alone  do  [men]  look.  May  he  perish 
who  first  loved  silver.  For  this  a  brother  is  not  [a 
brother] ;  for  this  parents  are  not  [parents].  Wars, 
murders,  are  for  this.  And  still  worse,  for  this  we 
lovers  are  undone. 

'T  is  a  pain  to  miss  Love's  smart ; 
Wing'd  with  pain  is  Cupid's  dart ; 
But  the  most  joy-kiUing  pain 
Waits  the  love  which  loves  in  vain 
Noble  birth  has  lost  its  charms ; 
Wit  no  more  the  heart  alarms ; 
Virtue  pleads  in  vain  for  Love ; 
Gold  alone  can  Beauty  move. 


Cirrst  be  he,  ah !  doubly  curst, 
Who  adored  the  idol  first 
Gk)ld  'mongst  brothers  sows  debate ; 
'  Gold  begets  paternal  hate ; 
Lights  the  t(»rch  of  civil  strife ; 
Kindles  all  the  feuds  of  life: 
Happj,  ceased  its  mischiefs  here ; 
Gk)ld  makes  wretched  Love  despair.    Addison. 


Venus  was  making  a  loud  cry  after  Loye,  her  son — 
''  If  any  one  has  seen  Love  wandering  in  cross-roads, 
the  run-away  is  mine.  The  informer  shall  have  a  pre- 
sent. The  child  is  very  remarkable.  You  would  mow 
him  amongst  twenty  together.  He  is  not  pale,  as  to  his 
skin,  but  like  fire.  ICs  eyes  are  rather  sharp,  and  lit 
up.  His  thoughts  are  wicked.  His  talk  is  pleasant; 
for  he  does  not  mean  and  say  alike.  His  voice  is  like 
honey.  But  if  he  is  in  a  passion,  his  mind  is  ungentle. 
He  is  a  deceiver,  saying  nothing  true.  A  crafty  child. 
Savage  in  sport.  He  has  a  head  of  handsome  hair,  but 
a  pouting  look.  His  weapons  are  tiny,  but  he  shoots 
them  even  to  Acheron  and  the  king  of  Hades.  He  is 
naked  as  to  his  body ;  but  his  mind  has  a  thick  cloak. 
And  winged,  like  a  bird,  he  flies  at  one  time  against 
some  men  and  women,  and  at  another  time  against  others. 
And  he  settles  on  their  entrails  [heart].  He  has  a  very 
small  bow,  and  upon  the  bow  an  arrow.  The  arrow  is 
a  tiny  one ;  but  it  is  borne  even  to  the  sky.  And  there 
is  a  golden  quiver  round  his  back.  But  mere  are  sharp 
arrows  in  it,  with  which  he  wounds  even  myself.  All 
his  [doings]  are  cruel,  all.  But  much  more  is  the  torch, 
that,  although  it  is  little,  bums  even  the  sun  itself.  K 
you  catch  him,  bind  and  bring  him.  Do  not  pity  him. 
And  shotdd  you  see  him  weepine,  have  a  care  lest  he 
deceive  you.  And  if  he  laughs,  orag  him  along.  But 
if  he  wants  to  kiss  you,  avoid  him.  His  kiss  is  mis- 
chievous.   His  lips  are  a  poison.    But  if  he  says, '  Take 


these  arrows,  I  make  you  a  present  of  them/  do  not 
touch  them.  His  gifts  are  treacherous ;  for  tl^ey  are  all 
dipt  in  fire." 

Her  lost  son  Cupid  careful  Venus  cried — 

^^  K  any  in  the  cross-roads  Love  has  spied. 

He  is  my  run-away ;  who  brings  good  news, 

Shall  gain  from  me,  what  he  will  not  refuse. 

The  urchin  has  so  very  mark'd  a  show, 

Him  you  cannot  'mongst  twenty  fail  to  know. 

Fiery,  not  white,  is  his  complexion ;  eyes 

Sparkling ;  fair  words  his  treacherous  thoughts  disguise; 

His  lips  and  heart  dissent ;  like  honey  sweet 

His  tongue ;  r^ige  in  his  mind  and  malice  meet ; 

A  crafty,  lying  boy ;  mischief  his  play ; 

Curl-headed ;  knavish-faced ;  no  little  way 

His  hand,  though  little,  can  an  arrow  throw ; 

To  Hell  he  shoots,  and  wounds  the  powers  below ; 

His  body  he  disrobes ;  his  mind  he  covers ; 

And,  like  a  swift  bird,  up  and  down  he  hovers 

From  man  to  woman,  perching  on  the  heart. 

A  little  bow  he  hath ;  a  little  dart ; 

Whose  nimble  flight  can  pierce  the  highest  spheres : 

A  golden  quiver  at  his  back  he  bears, 

And  poison'd  shafts,  with  which  he  does  not  spare 

E'en  me  to  wound :  all  cruel,  cruel  are ; 

But  most  his  little  torch,  which  fires  the  sun. 

Take,  bring  him  bound ;  nor  be  to  pity  won : 

Let  not  his  tears  thy  easiness  beguile. 

Nor  let  him  circumvent  thee  with  a  smile ; 

If  he  to  kiss  thee  ask,  his  kisses  fly ; 

Poison  of  asps  between  his  lips  doth  lie. 

If  to  resign  his  weapons  he  desire, 

Touch  not ;  his  treacherous  gifts  are  dipt  in  fire." 

T.  Stanley. 


In  the  first  place  honour  the  immortal  gods,  as  is  laid 
down  by  law;  and  reverence  an  oath;   and  then  the 


renowned  heroes.  Worship  too  the  deities  below  the 
earthy  by  doing  customary  rites.  And  honour  your  pa- 
rents^ and  those  bom  nearest  of  kin.  But  of  others^ 
make  him  your  friend  who  is  the  best  in  virtue.  Yield 
to  mild  words^  and  to  deeds  that  are  useful*  Do  not 
hate  your  friend  for  a  trifling  fault.  Klnow  these  [precepts] 
in  this  way.  And  accustom  yourself  to  be  the  master  of 
these  points ;  in  the  first  place^  of  your  belly^  and  sleep^ 
and  lasciviousness^  and  anger.  Do  nothing  base^  either 
with  another  or  in  private ;  and  most  of  all,  have  a  re- 
spect for  yourself.  Next  practise  uprightness  both  in  deed 
and  word.  Nor  accustom  yourself  to  act  irrationally 
about  any  matter ;  but  know  that  to  all  it  is  fated  to  die. 
At  one  time  a  person  is  wont  ^  to  possess  property^  at 
another  to  perish.  But  whatever  pains  mortals  have 
through  accidents  sent  by  the  deities,  endure  with  pa- 
tience the  share  you  may  have,  nor  take  it  to  heart.  But 
it  is  becoming  to  cure  them,  as  far  as  you  can,  and  to 
commime  with  yourself  thus — ^^  Fate  does  not  give  very 
much  of  these  things  to  the  good."  Many  remarks, 
both  bad  and  good,  fall  upon  men;  at  which  be  not 
astonished,  nor  suffer  yourself  to  be  restrained  [bv  them] : 
but  if  any  falsehood  is  told,  conduct  yourself  with  gende- 
jiess.  What  I  shall  say,  let  it  be  accomplished  in  every 
case.  Let  no  one  deceive  you,  either  by  word  or  deed, 
to  dp  or  say  what  is  not  for  the  better ;  but  take  coimsel 
before  an  act,  in  order  that  there  may  not  be  foolishness. 
It  is  the  part  of  a  coward  [bad  man]  to  do  and  say 
thoughtlessly;  but  [of  a  wise  man]  to  complete  what 
will  not  pain  him  subsequently.  Do  nothing  that  you 
do  not  know,  but  be  taught  what  is  requisite ;  and  thus 
you  will  pass  life  the  most  pleasantly.  Nor  is  it  meet  for 
you  to  have  no  care  for  the  health  of  the  body;  but  to 
make  to  yourself  a  moderation  in  drink,  and  food,  and 
exercise :  and  I  call  that  moderation,  which  will  give  no 
pain.     And  accustom  yourself  to  have  a  diet  simple  and 

'  The  Greek  is  fcXfi,  which,  like  *'  amat "  in  Horace,  is  properly  trans- 
lated "  is  wont." 


non-luxarious.  And  guard  against  doing  that  wUch 
begets  envy.  Do  not  expend  beyond  -^bat  is  season- 
able, ]3ke  a  person  ignorant  of  what  is  honourable.  Nor 
be  illiberal.  Moderation  in  all  things  is  best.  And  do 
those  things  whidi  will  not  injure  you :  and  calcidate 
before  the  act.  Nor  receive  sleep  upon  your  softened 
eyes  before  you  have  thrice  gone  over  each  act  of  the 
dgr — What  have  I  passed  by?  What  have  I  done? 
What  necessary  act  has  not  been  done  by  me  ?  And  be- 
ginning from  the  first,  go  through  them.  And  then,  if 
you  have  acted  improperly,  reproach  yourself;  but  if 
properly,  be  glad.  So  labour ;  so  practise :  these  precepts 
it  is  meet  for  you  to  love.  These  will  place  you  on  the 
footsteps  oi  divine  virtue. 


BIOK.      IDYLL.   3d. 

While  I  was  still  dreaming,  the  mighty  Venus  stood  by 
me,  leading  by  the  hand  Love  infant-like,  with  his  head 
stooping  towsurds  the  ground ;  and  such  a  word  she  said 
— ^^  Take  Love,  dear  herdsman,  and  teach  him  to  play." 
As  she  said  this,  she  went  away.  And  I,  a  simpleton, 
began  to  teach  Love,  as  if  he  were  willing  to  learn,  what 
herdsman's  lore  I  Imew;  how  that  Pan  discovered  the 
transverse  flute,  Athen^  the  [straight]  hautboy.  Mercury 
the  shell,  and  Apollo  the  reed.  This  I  was  teaching 
him.  But  he  regarded  not  the  stories ;  but  sang  himself 
love  ditties,  and  taught  me  the  desires  of  mortals  and 
immortals,  and  the  doings  of  his  mother.  And  I  indeed 
forgot  whatever  I  had  taught  Love ;  but  whatever  Love 
had  taught  myself,  that  I  learnt  all. 

.    I  dreamt  I  saw  great  Venus  by  me  stand. 
Leading  a  nodding  infant  by  the  hand  ; 
And  that  she  sdd  to  me  familiarly — 
"  Take  Love,  and  teach  him  how  to  play  to  me.** 
She  vanish'd  then.    And  I,  poor  fool,  must  turn 
To  teach  the  boy,  as  if  he  wish'd  to  learn. 

'    ETON  SELECTION.  153 

I  taught  bim  all  the  pastoral  songs  I  knew 
And  used  to  sing ;  and  I  informed  him  too, 
How  Pan  found  out  the  pipe,  Pallas  the  flute, 
Phoebus  the  lyre,  and  Mercurj  the  lute. 
But  not  a  jot  for  all  my  words  cared  he, 
But  lo !  fell  singing  his  love-songs  to  me ; 
And  told  me  of  the  loves  of  gods  and  men, 
And  of  his  mother's  doings ;  and  so  then 
I  forgot  all  I  taught  him  for  my  part, 
But  what  he  taught  me,  I  learnt  all  bj  heart. 

Leigh  Hunt. 



O  SOUL,  soul,*  who  art  tost  in  cares,  where  the  means 
of  escape  are  difficult,  keep  thyself  up,  and  protect  thy- 
self by  throwing  the  breast  before  the  foe,  and  stand 
firmly  near  the  enemy  in  ambush  ;^  and  neither,  when  a 
victor,  be  openly  elated;  nor,  when  vanquished,  fall 
down  in  the  house  and  mourn.  But  neither  joy  (too 
much)  in  things  of  joy,  nor  be  dispirited  too  much  in 
the  midst  of  ills ;  but  understand  what  kind  of  measure 
keeps  men  (within  bounds). 

Soul,  oh !  soul,  when  round  thee  whelming 

Cares,  like  mountain  surges,  close, 
Patient  bear  their  mighty  rage,  and 

With  thy  strength  their  strength  oppose. 
Be  a  manly  breast  your  bulwark ; 

Your  defence  firm-planted  feet ; 
So  in  serried  line  of  battle 

Spears  with  calm  composure  meet. 
Yet  in  victory's  golden  hour 

Raise  not  your  proud  vaunts  too  high ; 
Nor  if  vanquished,  meanly  stooping 

Pierce  with  loud  laments  the  sky. 


In  this  address  to  his  soul,  Archilochus  imitated  the  Homeric 
TirXaOi  fiot  Kpa^ifi,  in  O^.  Y.  18. 

'  So  Melhom  understands  ioKoitriv.    But  such  is  not  elsewhere  the 
meaning  of  that  word,  which  is  eyidently  corrupt. 


But  in  prosp'rous  fortune  so  re- 
joice, and  in  reverses  mourn, 

As  well  knowing  what  is  destined 
For  the  race  of  woman  bom.  J.  H.  M 

M7  soul,  my  soul,  care-worn,  bereft  of  rest, 
Arise,  and  front  the  foe  with  dauntless  breast ; 
Take  thj  firm  stand  amidst  his  fierce  alarms, 
Secure ;  with  inborn  valour  meet  his  arms. 
Nor,  conquering,  mount  vain-glory's  glittering  steep ; 
Nor,  conquered,  yield,  fall  down  at  home  and  weep ; 
Await  the  turns  of  life  with  duteous  awe ; 
Enow — ^Revolution  is  great  Nature's  law. 

Mabquis  of  Welleslet. 

n.   ETON  EXTRACTS,  28  EP. 

O  Life !  how  can  we  fly  thee, 

Save  through  the  gates  of  Death? 
For  cruel,  countless,  are  tiie  ills 

Encompassing  thy  path. 
Impossible  for  any  one, 
Eidier  to  suffer  or  to  shun. 
Yet  beautiful  is  Nature 

In  star,  in  earth,  in  sea, 
In  silver  moon,  and  golden  sun ; 

Nought  else  from  care  is  free. 
And  if  with  light  man's  spirit  bums 
Awhile,  the  deeper  gloom  returns.         Delta. 


There  is  a  sajrinff/  that  Virtue  dwells  in  rocks^  to  be 
ascended  with  dimculty^  and  that  she  is  to  be  seen' 
tending  the  holy  spot.  And  yet  she  is  not  to  be  looked 
upon  by  the  eyes  of  all  mortals.     He^  to  whom  sweat 

1  In  Hesiod  'Epy.  265. 

'  In  lieu  of  vvv  ^i  /uv  Oodv,  wMch  is  nnintellijg^ble,  Ilgen  suggested 
Iv  a  fuv.0taT6v —  Wilson,  in  Blackwood's  Magazine  for  Sept,  1^3,  p. 
378,  would  read  Ma  ri  fuv,  ^av6v  rt  %opdv  ayvbv  dfi^ktrtiv  ovSk  irav' 
Tiov — f  {  fir^—fiSky,  tici|r* —  But  fi6\y  could  not  follow  ti  /t^,  nor  cciyrai 
be  thus  found  in  the  subjunctive  without  something  to  gorem  it  The 
reading  of  xop^  is  adopted  by  Hay  and  Nemo. 


eating  the  spirit  shall  not  have  come  from  within^^  (shall 
not)  reach^  to  the  pinnacle  of  manliness. 

'Tis  said  that  Yirtue  dwells  on  high, 
'Mid  rocky  steeps,  that  seek  the  sky, 
Where  o'er  a  hallow'd  realm  she  holds  her  sway. 
No  mortal  eye  her  form  hath  met,  # 
Save  his,  from  whose  heart  galling  sweat 
Breaks  out,  and  wins  to  manhood's  top  the  way. 

G.  Bo. 
Virtue  delights  her  home  to  keep, 

Say  the  wise  of  the  olden  time, 
High  on  a  rugged,  rocky  steep. 

Which  man  may  hardly  climh. 
And  there  a  pure,  bright,  shining  band. 
Her  ministers,  around  her  stand. 
No  mortal  man  may  ever  look 

That  form  august  to  see, 
Until  with  patient  toil  he  brook 

The  sweat  of  mental  agony, 
Which  all  must  do,  who  reach  that  goal. 
The  perfect  manhood  of  the  soul^  Hat. 

They  say  that  Virtue  doth  aspire 

To  dwell  on  high  and  pathless  steeps. 
And  there  a  bright  celestial  choir 

Around  her  constant  yigil  keeps. 
Nor  is  she  seen  by  mortal  eyes. 

Unless  through  toil,  that  gnaws  the  soul. 
He,  who  would  be  her  votary,  rise 

To  manhood's  pure  and  perfect  goal.        Nemo. 


Thou  oughtest,  O  blind  Plutus !  to  be  seen  neither  on 
earth,  nor  on  the  sea,  nor  on  the  continent;*  but  to  in- 

*  Jacobs  quotes  from  Lucretius  yi.  94,  "  sudor  e  corpore  manans." 
But  that  would  lead  to  iicToOtVf  rather  than  to  Mo9iv, 

*  Ilgen  acutely  saw  that  the  sense  required  o$  icev  icoir'  in  lieu  of 

*  The  expression  fitir  iv  i^ireip^  is  clearly  superfluous  after /t^  ^«  yy— 
for  the  continent  (of  Asia)  is  evidently  a  part  of  the  earth.  The  poet 
probably  wrote  uri  rt  rf  'irtlpy,  i.  e.  rtf  dxcip^,  "  the  boundless,"  namely. 

158  .aHEEK   Ain^HOLOGT* 

habit  Tartarus  and  Acheron.  For  through  thee  all  evils 
are  amongst  men. 

Would  thou'dst  ne'er  been  by  mortals  seen, 

Blind  wealth,  on  earth  or  sea ; 
But  doom'd  to  dwell  in  deepest  Hell : 

Our  wQes  are  all  from  thee.  G.  S, 

Blind  Plutus,  oh !  I  would  that  ne'er 

Thou  hadst  been  seen  on  earth,  or  air. 

Or  sea ;  but  dwelt  where  Acheron  flows  ; 

For  man  to  thee  all  mischief  owes.  G.  B. 


It  is  the  part  of  intelligent  persons,  before  difficulties 
arise,  to  think  beforehand,  how  they  may  not  arise ;  but 
of  brave  men,  when  they  do  arise,  to  put  them  into  a 
proper  state. 

'Tis  for  the  wise. 
Each  difficult  event 
Foreseeing,  to  prevent 

Ere  it  arise ; 
When  come,  the  manly  breast 
Adjusts  it  for  the  best.  H.  W. 

VI.     ETON  EXTRACTS,   83  EP. 


Being  of  a  good  mind,  row  on  the  way  to  Hades  at  a 
slow  pace ;  for  the  way  is  not  hard  to  pass^  nor  is  it 
crooked,  nor  is  it  filled  with  wanderings ;  it  is  particu- 
larly straight,  and  all  sloping  downwards,  and  is  travelled 
even  by  persons  with  eyes  closed. 

With  courage  seek  the  kingdom  of  the  dead ; 

The  path  before  you  lies,     , 
It  is  not  hard  to  find,  nor  tread ; 
No  rocks  to  climb,  no  lanes  to  thread ; 

air :  and  thus  earth,  sea,  and  air  would  be  properly  united.  On  the  ques- 
tion, whether  the  air  is  or  is  not  boundless,  see  Pseudo-Platon.  Sisyph. 


But  broad,  and  straight,  and  even  still, 

And  ever  gently  slopes  down-hill ; 

You  cannot  miss  it,  though  you  shut  your  eyes. 

C.  M. 

Vm.    WESTMINSTER,    1    BOOK,    11   EP. 

Of  Bacchus,  the  limb-loosener,  and  of  Venus,  the  limb- 
loosener,  is  bom  their  daughter,  a  limb-loosener,  the 

Whilst  on  soft  beds  your  piUow'd  limbs  recline, 
Dissolved  by  Bacchus  and  the  queen  of  love, 
Remember,  Gout's  a  daughter  of  that  line. 

And  she  11  dissolve  them  soon  my  friend,  by  Jove. 

J.  H.  M. 

A  vine  creeping  up  conceals  me,  a  withered  plane- 
tree,  and  I  bloom  with  a  foreign  leaf,  I,  who  formerly 
nourished  bunches  of  grapes  on  my  flourishing  branches ; 
I,  who  was  with  hot  less  leaves  than  this  (vine).  Such 
a  mistress  however  let  one  nourish  hereafter,  who  alone 
knows  how  to  requite  even  the  dead. 

See  yonder  blushing  vine-tree  grows, 

And  clasps  a  dry  and  withered  plane. 
And  round  its  youthful  tendrils  throws, 

A  shelter  from  the  wind  and  rain. 
That  sapless  trunk  in  former  time 

Gave  covert  from  the  noon-tide  blaze, 
And  taught  the  infant  shoot  to  climb, 

That  now  the  pious  debt  repays. 
E'en  so,  kind  Powers,  a  partner  gite 

To  share  in  my  prosperity, 
Hang  on  my  strength,  while  yet  I  live, 

And  do  me  honour,  when  I  die.  F.  H. 

Me,  a  dry  plane-tree  now,  this  creeping  vine 
Mantles  in  robes,  whose  verdure  is  not  mine ; 
For  these  bare  arms,  once  leafy  as  her  own, 
Would  nurse  her  dusters,  and  their  beauty  crown. 


So  cherish  thou  a  Mend — that  Mend  indeed-* 

A  woman's  kindness  for  thy  hoar  of  need.  Hat. 

XL    WBSTMmSTEB,  4  BOOK,  20  BP. 
XIL  2      —       39    — 

I  know  myself  the  heing  of  a  day ; 

But  when  the  rolling  heavens  my  thoughts  survey, 

No  more  I  tread  the  earth ;  a  guest  I  rise 

At  Jove's  own  banquets  in  the  starry  skies.         H^y. 


Let  any  one  praise  the  Thracians^^  in  that  they  lament 
for  sons,  who  came  to  Kght  from  the  womb  of  a  mother  ; 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  deem  happy  such  as,  leaving 
life.  Death,  not  previously  seen,  the  servant  of  the  Fates^ 
has  seized  upon.  For  they,  who  Kve,  are  ever  passing 
on  to  evils  of  all  kinds ;  while  the  dead  have  found  a 
remedy  for  ills. 

Thracians,  who  howl  around  an  infant's  birth. 
And  give  the  funeral  hour  to  songs  and  mirth, 
Well  in  your  grief  and  gladness  are  expressed, 
That  life  is  labour,  and  that  death  is  rest  Bl. 

The  Thracians'  custom  I  applaud^  for  they 

Bewail  the  infant  on  his  natel  day  ; 

But  joy,  when  death  with  unexpected  blow 

Consigns  the  spirit  to  the  shades  below. 

Full  well,  for  every  ill  besets  man's  life  ; 

But  death's  the  balm  of  all  its  varied  strife.     T.  F. 

XIV.      WESTMINSTER,  3  BOOK,  42  BP. 

XV.  4      —        8  — 


I  love  not  the  ploughed  fields  with  their  heavy  crops, 
nor  the  happiness,  like  what  Gyges  had,  from  much  gold ; 

^  To  this  custom  of  tlie  Thracians  Euripides  was  the  first  to  allude,  in 
Cresphont.  Fr.  1,  translated  by  Cicero  in  Tusc.  i.  48. 


I  love  a  life,  Macrintis,  that  is  self-sufficient ;  for  the  say- 
ing— \^  Nothing  too  much,"  delights  me  very  much. 

XVn.      IfESTMINSTER,   3   BOOK,   20  EP. 

Cover'd  by  winter  snows,  around  her  young 

With  sheltering  wings  a  hen  more  closely  clung, 

Till  the  keen  frosts  of  heaven,  which  long  she  tried 

To  struggle  with,  prevail'd,  and  then  she  died. 

Procn6,  Medea,  ye  were  mothers  too ; 

Blush,  when  ye  feam,  what  e'en  a  bird  could  do.     BLlt. 


How  far,  O  wretched  soul !  wilt  thou,  still  flying  with 
vain  hopes  close  to  the  cold  clouds,  write  down  your 
dreams  of  wealth,  some  in  this  way,  and  others  in  that  ? 
By  mortals  nothing  is  to  be  obtained  spontaneously. 
But  do  you  go  after  the  gifts  of  the  Muses,  and  give  up 
these  indistinct  phantoms  of  the  soul  to  simpletons. 

How  long  upon  vain  hopes,  O  wretched  soul ! 

Still  fluttering  too  near  the  cloud's  cold  chill, 
Shall  dream  on  dream  of  riches  thee  cajole  ? 

For  nought  accraes  to  mortals,  as  they  wiU. 
Seek  thou  the  Muses'  gifts,  and  leave  to  fools 
These  visions  dim,  wrought  by  thy  fancy's  tools 

E.  S. 

Let  not  the  sea  carry  me  along  bold  ^  in  the  storm ; 
nor  have  I  loved  ^  the  very  great  stillness  ^  of  an  inactive 
calm.  Moderation  is  the  best ;  at  least  where  the  doings 
of  men  are ;  and  greatly  have  I  embraced  the  measure, 
which  is  sufficient.  This  do  thou,  dear  Lampis,  love, 
and  hate  the  mischievous  whirlwinds.  There  are  certain 
Zephyrs  even  in  life  that  are  gentle. 

XX.      ETON  EXTRACTS,  57  EP. 

'  In  lien  of  Bpaoig  tlie  sense  requires  Opaffitv — 
'  The  Greek  is  ^(TiraadfiriVt  literally  "  I  have  embraced.*' 
•  So  Jacobs  explains  ri)v  wa\ivfivtfiifiv.    But  one  would  prefer  tiv 
aXi  viivtfiiriv, 




Lo !  the  beautiful  (and)  self-elaborated  flowing^  from 
bees  in  the  air,*  and  the  self-fixed  cells,  not  made  by 
hands  (of  man) '  a  gratis-boon  for  the  life  of  man,  that 
requires  not  a  spade  (to  dig),  nor  an  ox  (to  plough),  nor 
crooked  scythes  (to  reap\  but  a  small  bowl,  where  the 
sweet  stream  of  the  bees  ^  flows,  as  a  foimtain,  abundant 
from  a  small  hut  (hive).  Farewell,  ye  light-borne^  (crea- 
tures), and  may  ye  feed  on  flowers,  the  winged  workers 
of  ethereal  nectar. 

Ah !  sweet  spontaneous  ef^uence  of  the  bee, 
Air-form'd.     Ah !  cells  by  hands  milabour'd,  ye. 
Free  boon  to  man ;  no  need  has  he  of  hoe, 
The  plough's  slow  tilth,  or  sickle's  reaping  bow ; 
Thine  a  small  hive,  in  which  their  luscious  juice, 
From  tiny  forms,  the  teeming  bees  produce. 
Gay  creatures,  hail ;  and  o'er  the  flowery  mead 
Of  aether's  nectar  light-wing'd  artists  speed. 

F.  Wrangham. 
Lovely,  aerial  dwelling,  which  the  bees 
Fashion  of  plastic  wax,  and  fix  with  ease ; 
Free  gift  to  man,  whence  many  blessings  flow. 
Without  the  aid  of  sickle,  axe,  or  hoe. 
Only  a  little  trough,  where  they  may  pour 
The  liquid  sweets  profuse  of  every  flower ; 
Blessings  be  yours ;  may  flowers  your  wanderings  meet, 
Ye  winged  workers  of  ethereal  sweet.  Hat. 

^  Wilson,  in  Blackwood's  Ma^zine,  Sept.,  ]833,  p.  390,  translates 
**  place  of  protection,**  as  if  he  wished  to  read  pvfia  for  ptvfia — 

*  Although  **  mollis  aerii  dona,**  quoted  by  Jacobs  from  Virgil  O.  iv.  1, 
seems,  at  first  sight,  to  defend  kv  aiOkptf  yet,  as  bees  do  not  make  their 
cells  in  the  air,  one  would  prefer  hi  ^pvt,  similar  to  *'  mella  cava  manant 
ez  ilice,'*  in  Horace. 

'  So  Jacobs  explains  KavXatrroi  x^^P^-  But  the  mention  of  man 
would  be  here  out  of  place.  H.  Stephens  correctly  suggested  Ktipiav — 
and  should  have  suggested  likewise  ivirXaaroi — ^for  the  cells  of  bees  are 
peculiarly  **  well-formed.**    Wilson  adopts  Kriputv — 

*  As  nriydZd  is  an  intransitive  verb,  the  syntax  requires  fuKiffff&v,  not 

^  So  Jacobs  understands  tifaykts.  He  should  have  suggested  tir/Xo' 
ye^c —  i.  e.  *•  sweet  as  milk.** 

Edwards's  selection.  .  163 

Oh  beautiful  bee-bomesteady  with  many  a  waxen  cell. 
Self-built  for  hanging,  so  it  seems — that  airy  citadel ! 
An  unbought  blessing  to  man's  life,  which  neither  any  hoe, 
Nor  axe,  jior  crooked  sickle,  e'er  is  needed  to  bestow. 
A  tiny  vessel,  and  no  more,  wherein  the  busy  bee. 
From  its  small  body,  liquid  sweets  distilleth  lavishly. 
Rejoice,  ye  blessed  creatures,  regaling  while  ye  rove, 
Wing'd  workers  of  nectareous  food,  on  all  the  flowers  ye  love. 



A  staff  led  me  up  to  a  temple,  when  i  was  uninitiated, 
*  not  only  in  sacred  rites,  but  in  the  light  of  the  sun.*  But 
the  goddesses  made  me  a  partaker  in  both,  and  on  that 
night  I  knew  I  was  freed  from  the  night  upon  my  eyes ; 
and  without  a  staff  I  went  down  to  the  city,  proclaim- 
ing the  orgies  of  Ceres  by  eyes  more  clearly  than  by 


A.  Xerxes  has  given  to  thee,  Leonidas,  this  purple  robe, 
through  respect  ^  for  the  deeds  of  thy  valour.  Z.  I  do 
not  accept  it.  This  is  a  favour  granted  to  traitors.  May 
my  shield  hold  me,  even  when  I  am  dead.  Wealth  is 
no  ftineral  dress  for  me.  A.  But  thou  art  dead.  Why 
dost  thou,  even  amongst  the  dead,  feel  so  great  a  hatred 
of  the  Persians  ?  Z.  The  love  of  liberty  dies  not. 

A,  This  purple  robe,  Leonidas,  to  thee 

Has  Xerxes  given ;  for  thy  deeds  in  arms 
Have  won  his  admiration.    Z.  Not  for  me 

Be  this  the  gift.     A  traitor's  limbs  it  warms 
Better  ;  and  I  reject  it.     In  death's  sleep 

My  shield  throw  o*er  me,  not  a  garb  of  gold, 
A.  Why  midst  the  dead  thy  hate  'gainst  Persians  keep  ? 

L.  The  love  of  freedom  not  in  death  is  cold.     6,  B. 

1 — »  With  pipfiXov  —  riXiriJc  and  ^tkiov  Jacobs  compares  y&fuav 
iLuiftiTOc  in  Oppian :  and  remarks  that  the  epigram  was  written  upon  a 
blind  man,  who  went  np  to  the  temple  of  Ceres  and  Proserpine  at  Eleusis, 
and  there  recovered  his  sight. 

'  Jacobs  thus  explains  rapj3^(rac»  literally  **  haying  feared — *'  He  should 
hare  proposed  9afi$fi<rat^  "  astonished  at—" 

M  2 


XXrV.    £TON  EXTRACTS,   81    BP. 

While  a  child  was  leaning  over  the  extreme  face  of  a 
lofty-tiled  (house)  —  the  Fates  are  for  in£mts  not  a 
thing  of  fear — ^its  mother  from  behind  did  by  her  bosom 
turn  aside  its  thoughts ;  and'  twice  did  her  milk  con- 
tribute life  to  the  child. 


You  are  coimting,  imhappy  man,  with  pebbles.  But 
as  time,  while  progressing,  produces  interest,  so  does  it 
hoary  old  age  liewise ;  and,  though  you  have  not  been 
drinking,  nor  binding  flowers  on  your  temples,  nor 
(sprinkling)  ointment,  nor  knowing  a  smooth-faced  ob- 

1'ect  of  love,  you  shall  die,  giving  up  your  wealth*  in  a 
ong  will,  and  taking  with  you  out  of  many  farthings 
only  one  ?  ^ 

XXVra.   WESTMINSTER,  3  BOOK,  5  EP. 

His  ox,  employed  in  field-work,  when  worn  down  by 
the  furrow  and  old  age,  Alcon  did  not  lead  to  the 
slaughtering  knife,  through  respect  for  its  labours ;  but 
in  a  meadow  of  deep  grass  it  showed  its  delight  by  low- 
ings,  for  its  freedom  from  the  plough. 

The  ox  with  age  and  labour  spent 

Died  not  by  butcher's  knife  ; 
In  gratitude  for  service  lent, 

Alcon  hath  spared  his  Ufe  ; 
And  now  along  the  grassy  lea 
Joyous  he  lows,  from  plough  set  free.  G.  S. 

^  The  Greek  is  trXovrouoav^fitydXriv  SiaBiiKfiv,  But  as  wXovrovvav 
could  hardly  be  thus  apjplied  to  diaOtiierfv,  the  poet  probably  wrote 
TrXovrov  obv — fuyaXy  iiaOriKy. 

'  The  one  farthing  was  supposed  to  be  wanted  as  the  £u*e  for  ChoiroQ^s 



All  things  are  a  laugh,  and  all  are  dust,  and  all  are 
nothing.  For  all  are  produced  from  things  without  rea- 
son. Children  are  cares,  if  they  suffer  some  great  evil ; 
and  cares  too  they  are  not  a  few,  even  when  living.  A 
good  wife  has  in  herself  some  delight ;  but  a  bad  one 
brings  to  the  husband  a  bitter  life. 


I  Lais,  who  was  of  old  (Love's)  dart  to  all,  am  no 
longer  Lais,  but  am  become,  conspicuous  to  all,  the 
Nemesis  of  years.  By  Venus — and  what  is  Venus  to 
me,  beyond  an  oath  ? — LaLs  is  a  thing  no  longer  known 
even  to  Lais  herself. 


O  goddess !  who  hatest  the  poor,  and  art  the  sole  sub- 
duer  of  wealth,  (and)  who  knowest  how  to  live  well  at 
all  times,  thou  delightest  to  be  supported  on  strange 
feet,  and  knowest  how  to  wear  shoes  of  felt,*  and  oint- 
ments are  a  care  to  thee.  Thee  too  a  garland  delights, 
and  the  liquor  of  the  Ausonian  Bacchus.  But  these 
things  never  exist  at  any  time  to  the  poor.  And  there- 
fore thou  fliest  from  the  threshold  of  poverty,  that  has 
no  copper,  and  art  delighted,  on  the  other  hand,  in 
coming  to  the  feet  of  we^th. 

XXXIU..  WESTMINSTER,    1  BOOK,    97  EP. 

XXXIV.           2  —     100  — 


XXXVI.                38  — 

XXXVn.   WESTMINSTER,    1  BOOK,    14  — 

xxxvni.         —      13  — 


'  Jacobs  suggested  acutely  vtKo<f>opeXv,  for  owXo^piiv — 



Let  a  seal  for  words  not  to  be  spoken  Ke  on  the  tongue. 
A  watch  over  words  is  better  than  over  wealth. 


XLn.  73  — 

XLIIL   WESTMINSTER,    1   BOOK,   52  — 

XLV.  101   — 

XLVI.  72  

XLVn.   WESTMINSTER,    1    BOOK,    12   — 

XLVin,  3       68  

,XLiX.   ETON  EXTRACTS,  50  — 


Should  you  reach  even  to  the  Pillars  of  Hercules,* 
while  extending  your  boundaries,  a  portion  of  land, 
equal  for  all  men,  awaits  you ;  and  you  shall  lie,  equal 
with  Irus,^  possessing  nothing  more  than  a  farthing,^  and 
resolved  into  earth  no  longer  your  own. 

LI.    PHIL0.4 

Grey  hairs,  united  to  a  mind,  are  rather  honourable ; 
but  those  not  united  to  a  mind,  are  rather  a  disgrace  to 
the  multitude  of  years. 

LU.   ETON  EXTRACTS,   61    EP. 

Lin.  94  — 

LIV.  '1i5  — 

I  was  bom  while  shedding  tears ;  and  after  shedding 
tears,  I  am  dead ;  and  I  have  found  the  whole  of  life  to 

>  The  Pillars  of  Hercules,  the  modem  Gibraltar,  were  once  considered 
the  western  limits  of  the  old  world. 
'  The  Homeric  Irus  was  the  name  for  any  poor  person. 
»  See  at  Ep.  27,  n.  K  % 

*  This  Epigram  is  more  full  in  Westminster,  2  Book,  34  Ep. 

Edwards's  selection.  167 

be  with  many  tears.  Oh !  the  race  of  man,  subject  to 
many  tears,  without  strength,  an  object  of  pity,  dragged 
below  the  earth,  and  resolved  (into  it). 

Tears  were  my  birthright ;  bom  in  tears. 

In  tears  too  I  must  die ; 
And  mine  has  been  through  life's  long  years 

A  tearful  destiny. 
Such  is  the  state  of  man.     From  birth 

To  death  all  comfortless ;  . 
Then  swept  away  beneath  the  earth, 

In  utter  nothingness.  £.  8. 


Naked  I  entered  at  my  birth ; 

Naked  I  hie  me  back  to  earth ; 

Why  then  should  I  so  anxious  be  ? 

Since  naked  still  the  end  I  see.  J.  W.  B. 


Life  is  an  unsafe  voyage ;  for  being  tost  in  a  storm  we 
often  make  stumblings  in  it,  more  piteous  than  persons 
shipwrecked.  But  having  fortune,  as  the  pilot  of  life, 
we  sail,  as  it  were  on  a  sea,  in  a  doubtful  manner ;  some 
with  a  favourable  voyage,  others,  the  contrary.  And 
yet  all  of  us  depart  to  one  port,  which  is  below  the  earth. 

Life  is  an  unsafe  voyage,  where  we  're  tost 
And  suffer  more  than  those  in  shipwrecks  lost. 
But  should  we  Fortune  take  the  helm  to  guide, 
Still  is  the  bark  oft  strain'd  from  side  to  side. 
Some  lucky  onwards  sail ;  and  back  some  fall ; 
One  port  beneath  the  earth  is  reach'd  by  all.     G.  B. 

LVra.   ETON  EXTRACTS,    15   EP. 

LIX.   WESTMINSTER,    1   BOOK,   8   EP. 


You  are  rich.  And  what  remains  ?  Do  you,  when 
you  depart,  drag  your  wealth  with  you,  being  draeged 
to  the  tomb?   Wasting  your  time,  you  collect  riches; 


but  you  axe  not  able  to  heap  up  a  more  abundant  mea- 
sure of  life. 

LXI.   WESTMINSTER,   2   BOOK,  24  EP. 

LXn.  — 3       —      24  — 


Alas !  for  the  short  pleasure  that  is  in  life.  Lament 
the  fleetness  of  time.  We  sit  and  lie  down,  in  trouble 
or  in  luxury.  But  time  runs  on ;  (and)  as  it  runs  against 
us  unhappy  mortals,  it  brings  to  the  life  of  each  an 
(evil)  turn. 


A  suffering  of  the  soul  (is)  the  body,  Hades,  Fate, 
the  burden  of  Necessity,^  and  a  powerful  chain,  and  a 
punishment  by  tortures.  But  when  it  (the  soul)  shall 
have  departed  from  the  body,  it  flies,  as  if  from  the 
bonds  of  death,  to  an  immortal  god. 


Columns,  and  painters'  brushes,^  and  triangular  desks,' 
are  the  cause  of  great  delight  to  those,  who  possess 
them,  as  long  as  they  live ;  for  vain-glories  benefit  not 
much  the  spirits  of  men  deceased.  But  virtue  and  the 
grace  of  wisdom  go  together  even  thither,*  and  they 
remain  here  attracting  a  remembrance.  Thus  neither 
Plato  nor  Homer  pride  themselves  on  colours  or  columns, 
but  on  their  wisdom  alone.  Happy  (are  they),  of  whom 
the  remembrance  dwells  for  ever  in  the  forms  of  clever 
books,  and  not  in  vain  likenesses. 

*  The  sense  evidently  requires  ax9oc  dvdyKriQ,  not  ax9oQ  Avayieri — 

'  Here  ypafpidtg  means  "  painters*  brushes,"  not  as  generally  "  writers* 
pens,**  as  sho^n  by  xP*^f^^^h  "  colours,**  a  little  afterwards. 

'  By  Kvppiig  is  meant  here,  says  Jacobs,  tables,  on  which  titles  and 
honours  were  displayed,  not,  as  elsewhere,  those  on  which  laws  were  laid 
for  public  inspection. 

*  Jacobs  vainly  endeavours  to  defend  kiXOi,  "  there,**  against  Reiske'a 
reccre,  "  thither.*' 

Edwards's  selection.  169 

LXVL   ETON  extracts,   44   EP. 

Of  Death — Rest's  parent,  leech  of  all  disease 
And  poverty's  deep  pangs — ^what  means  our  fears  ? 

Death,  before  whom  all  human  sorrow  flees ; 
Death,  who  but  once,  and  only  once,  appears. 

Whereas  disease  is  multiform ;  again, 

And  oft  it  comes ;  fear  then  Disease  and  Pain.       Hat. 

Seated  by  this  table  of  polished  stone,  you  will  have 
a  pleasant  game  in  shaking  the  rattling  dice.  But  when 
you  are  the  winner,  do  not  be  elated ;  nor  when  the  loser, 
be  grieved,  finding  fault  with  the  trifling  throw.  For 
the  mind  of  a  man  is  seen  through  in  trifles,  and  the  dice 
tell  the  depth  of  the  power  of  mind. 


All  these  things  are  games.  The  rush  of  fortune, 
which  takes  different  turns,  is  borne  along,  like  throws 
without  reason.  And  you  will  perceive  a  slippery  ^  imi- 
tation of  the  life  of  man,  by  being  now  the  superior,  and 
now  the  inferior.  We  praise  then  him,  who  both  in 
life,  and  at  dice  (playing),  adopts  moderation  in  joy  and 



^  Whither  dost  thou  direct  the  sword  ?  Against  my  belly 
or  my  breast  ?  The  belly  brought  thee  forth ;  the  breast 
has  brought  thee  up. 

Where  wilt  thou  point  the  deadly  steel  ? 

Shall  breast  or  womb  thy  vengeance  feel  ? 

The  womb,  that  bore  thee  ?  or  the  breast, 

To  which  thy  infant  limbs  were  prest  ?  E.  S. 

*  Instead  of  tr^aXepiv,  which  is  unintelligible,  the  sense  require^ 
0avcpdv,  "  conspicuous — ** 




O  Glaucus  !  son  of  Epicydes,  for  the  present  indeed 
it  is  more  gainful  to  conquer  thus  by  an  oath,  and  to  ob- 
tain the  spoil  of  money.  Swear ;  since  death  awaits  even 
the  man,  who  keeps  his  oath.  But  there  is  of  oath  an 
offspring  without  a  name,  nor  has  it  hands  or  feet. 
And  yet  it  pursues  fleetly,  until'  it  seizes  and  destroys 
the  whole  race,  and  the  whole  house.  But  better  after- 
wards is  the  race  of  the  man,  who  keeps  his  oath. 




The  holy  places  of  the  gods  are  open  to  the  good ;  nor 
is  there  a  need  of  purifications;  no  pollution  touches 
virtue.  But  thou,  who  (hast)  a  mischievous  heart,  de- 
part ;  for  shall  a  wetted  body  wash  out  thy  soul  ? 


Come,  pure  as  to  thy  soul,  to  the  grove  of  a  pure  deity, 
after  you  have  touched  a  virgin-like  stream,  since- for  the 
good,  a  small  drop  is  sufficient.^  But  the  bad  man  not 
even  the  whole  ocean  would  with  its  waters  wash.* 

Enter  the  pure  god's  temple  sanctified 

In  soul,  with  virgin  water  purified. 

One  drop  will  cleanse  the  good  ;  the  ocean  wave 

Suffices  not  the  guilty  soul  to  lave.  H.  W. 

If  a  little  of  sweet  wine  be  left  in  vessels,  the  portion 
left  is  turned  to  vinegar.    So  after  having  drawn  out  the 

*  This  Epigram  is  given  as  from  an  oracle  by  Herodotus,  vi.  86. 

'  Jacobs  correctly  saw  that  KtXrat  is  an  error  for  apKii,  required  by 
the  antithesis. 

»  Jacobs  quotes  Soph.  CEd.  T.  1227,  and  Edwards  from  Shakspeare — 
**  Will  all  great  Neptune's  ocean  wash  this  blood  Clean  from  my  hand  f 

Edwards's  selection*  171 

whole  ^oi  life,  and  coining  to  the  depth  of  old  age,  the 
old  man  becomes  soured. 

If  in  the  cask  some  generous  drops  remain, 
To  vinegar  'twill  turn  from  sweetest  wine ; 

And  thus,  if  to  the  dregs  life's  joy  you  drain. 
The  peevishness  of  sour  old  age  is  thine.     H.  W. 


LXXX.  1       —  40  — 

LXXXJ.  2       —  17   — 

i.xxxn>  1       —  49  — 

Hast  thou  a  friend  !     Thou  hast  indeed 

A  large  and  rich  supply ; 
Treasure  to  serve  you,  every  need, 

"Well  managed,  till  you^e.  W.  Cowpeb. 

LXXXm.   WESTMINSTER,    1    BOOK,   25   EP. 

LXXXIV.  2       —      14  — 

LXXXV.  —       —        7   — 


Every  reason  is  vain,  that  is  not  brought  to  a  finish 
by  a  thing  done ;  and  every  action  exhibits  a  thing  done, 
as  the  reason. 

LXXXVni.     WESTMINSTER,    1    BOOK,   41    EP. 

LXXXIX.  1       — '99   — 


He  is  not  a  jfriend,  who,  while  drinking  wine  close  to 

a  full  bowl,  speaks  of  quarrels,  and,  tear-bringing  war; 

but  he,  who,  mixing  together  the  brilliant  gifts  of  the 

Muses  and  Venus,  calls  to  mind  a  joyousness  delightful. 

No  friend  is  he  to  social  joy. 

Who  these  gay  moments  would  destroy 

By  tales  of  martial  woe  ; 
But  he,  who  with  a  toast  and  song 
The  sportive  pleasures  shall  prolong, 

Which  from  yon  goblet  flow.         Ph.  Smyth. 



When  the  wind  roared,  while  blowing  against  the 
well-wrought  chest,  and  the  water  was  agitated  (Danae) 
sunk  with  fear ;  nor  with  cheeks  unwetted  did  she  throw 
her  arms  around  Perseus,  and  said — ^Alas !  my  child, 
what  troubles  do  I  endure !  and  yet  thou  slumberest 
sweetly;  and  with  the  feelings  of  the  suckling^  thou 
sleepest  in  a  dwelling,  cheerless,  and  bound  with  bolts 
of  brass,  and  in  darkness,  where  the  night  shines  with  a 
livid  colour.  But  thou  regardest  not  the  wave  passing 
by  above  thy  dry  and  thick  hair,  nor  the  noise  of  the 
wind,  lying  with  thy  pretty  face  in  a  small  purple  robe.  If 
any  thing  were  dreadful  to  thee,  this^  at  least  is  dreadful. 
And  if  thou  couldest  give  a  slight  ear  to  my  words,  I  ex- 
hort thee — Sleep,  my  babe ;  sleep  too,  thou  sea :  and  sleep, 
my  measureless  iUs.  But  may  some  change  of  plan  *  ap- 
pear from  thee,  O  Zeus ;  and,  what  is  a  bold  word,  I  pray 
for  judgments  in  my  favour  by  the  hands  of  my  child. 

When  the  wind  resounding  high 
Bluster'd  from  the  northern  sky  ; 
When  the  waves  in  stronger  tide 
Dash'd  against  the  vessel's  side. 
Her  care-worn  cheek  with  tears  bedew'd, 
Her  sleeping  infant  Danae  viewed ; 
And  trembhng  still  with  new  alarms, 
Around  him  cast  a  mother's  arms. 
My  child,  what  woes  doth  Danae  weep  ! 
But  thy  young  limbs  are  wrapt  in  sleep. 
In  that  poor  nook  all  sad  and  dark. 
While  lightnings  play  around  our  bark, 
Thy  quiet  bosom  only  knows 
The  heavy  sigh  of  deep  repose. 

1  Such  seems  to  be  the  meaning  of  yaXaOfivtf  iJTopi —  But  Wilson,  in 
Blackwood's  Magazine,  Sept.,  1833,  p.  428,  would  read  yaXijvaty  r' 
iJTopi —  One  would  prefer  2d  S*  iuaTUQ  fnynXbv  XaOivtf  r*  ^ropt —  For 
the  sleep  of  infants  is  peculiarly  silent  and  forgetful  of  pain. 

*  The  Greek  is  t6  y€,  an  evident  error  for  t6Si — 

'  One  MS.  has  furafiovKia,  which  is,  what  fAUToiopovXia  is  not,  intel- 


The  howling  wind,  the  raging  sea, 
No  terror  can  excite  in  thee  ; 
The  angry  surges  wake  no  care, 
That  burst  above  thy  long  deep  hair. 
But  could'st  thou  feel,  what  I  deplore, 
Then  would  I  bid  thee  sleep  the  more. 
Sleep  on,  sweet  boy  ;  still'd  be  the  deep  ; 
Oh  !  could  I  lull  my  woes  to  sleep  ! 
Jove,  let  thy  mighty  hand  o'erthrow 
The  baffled  malice  of  my  foe  ; 
And  may  this  child  in  future  yean 
Avenge  his  mother's  wrongs  and  tears. 

Ld.  Denman. 

But  when  around  that  Dsedalean  ark 

The  wind  blew  roaring,  and  the  upheaved  deep 

O'erwhelm'd  the  mother's  soul  with  new  alarms, 

Her  cheeks  bedeVd  with  mournful  brine. 

She  clasp'd  young  Perseus  in  her  arms. 

And  said,  '*  What  woes,  beloved  child,  are  mine  I 

But  thou  dost  sleep  a  balmy  sleep. 

Like  thine  own  peaceful  breast  profound, 

Within  this  joyless  home,  joyless  and  dark, 

With  brazen  bolts  encompassed  round. 

All  undisturb'd ;  though  moonbeams  play 

Upon  the  wave,  no  glimmering  ray 

Finds  entrance  here ;  nor  billows  wild, 

That  harmless  burst  above  thy  long  deep  hair, 

Nor  the  loud  tempest's  voice,  my  child. 

Awake  in  thee  one  thought  of  care. 

Thou  sleep'st  as  on  a  couch ;  thy  beauteous  head 

Still  on  its  purple  cloaklet  spread ; 

Yet  could  these  terrors  terror  wake  in  thee. 

Or  could  thine  infant  ear 

Catch  but  the  note  of  fear. 

These  lips  pronounce,  my  words  should  rather  be. 

Sleep,  sleep,  my  child ;  and  sleep,  thou  sea ; 

And  sleep,  oh !  sleep,  my  misery. 

But  hear,  great  father  Jove,  my  prayer ! 

Frustrate  this  babe's  untimiely  doom — 

Spare  him,  great  Jove ;  I  bid  thee  i^are — 



(Oh !  what  a  mother's  soul  may  dare — ) 

Avenger  of  my  wrongs  in  years  to  come,         J.  L.  E. 


It  is  the  best  thing  for  a  mortal  man  to  be  in  health ; 
the  second  to  be  bom  with  a  good  form ;  the  third  to 
be  rich  without  trickery ;  and  the  fourth  to  be  in  the 
prime  of  life  in  the  society  of  friends. 

The  first  of  mortal  joys  is  health ; 
Next  beauty ;  and  the  third  is  wealth ; 
The  fourth,  all  youth's  delight  to  prove 

With  those  we  love.    J.  H.  M. 


This  is  the  beautiful  statue  of  Milo  the  beautiful, 
who  conquered  seven  times  at  Pisa,  and  never  fell  on 
his  knjees  (vanquished). 

Fair  statue  this  of  Milo  fair ;  who  won 

Seven  times  the  Pisan  prize,  and  quailed  to  none. 



Praxiteles  has  moulded  accurately  the  love,  which  he 
felt,  drawing  the  model-figure  from  his  own  heart,  and 
given  me  to  Phryn^,  as  the  payment  for  myself;  and  I 
produce  a  love-philtre,  not  by  drawing  a  bow,  but  by 
having  her  eyes  fixed  upon  me. 

Well  has  the  sculptor  felt,  what  he  express'd ; 

He  drew  the  living  model  from  his  breast. 

Will  not  his  Phryn6  the  rare  gift  approve. 

Me  for  myself  exchanging,  love  for  love  ? 

Lost  are  my  fabled  bow  and  magic  dart ; 

But,  only  gazed  upon,  I  win  the  heart*  F.  EL 


In  a  bough  of  myrtle  I  will  carry  the  sword,  like 
Harmodius  and  Aristogeiton,  when  they  killed  the  ty- 
rant, and  caused  Athens  to  be  under  equal  laws.     O 


dearest  Haxmodiiis !  thou  haBt  not  died  wholly  ;*  but  in 
the  isles  of  the  blessed  they  say  you  are,  where  they 
say  (are)  Achilles  swift  of  foot,  and  Diomed  the  son  of 
Tydeus.  In  a  bough  of  myrtle  I  will  carry  the  sword, 
like  Harmodius  and  Aristogeiton,  when  at  the  festival- 
sacrifice  of  Ath^n^  they  killed  Hipparchus  the  tyrant- 
man.  Ever  your  glory  through  the  land  shall  live, 
dearest  Harmodius  and  Aristogeiton,  because  ye  killed 
the  tyrant,  and  caused  Athens  to  be  under  equal  laws. 

1 11  wreathe  my  sword  in  myrtle  bough, 

The  sword  that  laid  the  tyrant  low ; 

When  patriots  burning  to  be  £ree, 

To  Athens  gave  equaHty. 

Harmodius,  hail !  though  reft  of  breath, 

Thou  ne'er  shalt  feel  the  stroke  of  death. 

The  heroes'  happy  isles  shall  be 

The  bright  abode  allotted  thee. 

I  '11  wreathe  the  sword  in  myrtle  bough, 

The  sword  that  laid  Hipparchus  low, 

When  at  Minerva's  adverse  fane, 

He  knelt,  and  never  rose  again. 

While  freedom's  name  is  understood, 

You  shall  delight  the  wise  and  good ; 

You  dared  to  set  your  country  free, 

And  gave  her  laws  equality.  Ld.  Denman. 

In  myrtles  veil'd  I  will  the  falchion  wear  ; 

For  thus  the  patriot  sword 
Harmodius  and  Aristogeiton  bare, 

When  they  the  tyrant's  bosom  gored  ; 
And  bade  the  men  of  Athens  be 
Regenerate  in  equality. 
Beloved  Harmodius,  oh  !  never 
Shall  death  be  thine,  who  livest  for  ever. 
Thy  shade,  as  men  have  told,  inherits 
The  islands  of  the  blessed  spirits : 
Where  deathless  live  the  glorious  dead, 
Achilles  fleet  of  foot  and  Diomed. 

'  Instead  of  nov,  the  sense  evidently  requires  irag,  similar  to  **  Non 
omnis  moriar  "  in  Horace. 


In  myrtles  veil'd  I  will  the  falchion  wear ; 

For  thus  the  patriot  sword 
Harmodius  and  Aristogeiton  bare. 

When  they  the  tyrant's  bosom  gored ; 
When,  in  Minerva's  festal  rite, 
They  closed  Hipparchus'  eyes  in  night. 

Harmodius'  praise,  Aristogeiton's  name, 

Shall  bloom  on  earth  with  undecaying  fame : 

Who  with  the  myrtle-wreathed  sword 

The  tyrant's  bosom  gored ; 

And  bade  the  men  of  Athens  be 

Regenerate  in  equality.  Elton. 


My  wealth  is  a  great  spear  and  sword,  and  a  beauti- 
ful shield,  made  out  of  a  raw  hide,  the  defence  of  my 
skin.  With  this  I  plough ;  with  this  I  reap ;  with  this 
I  tread  sweet  wine  from  the  vine ;  by  this  I  am  called 
the  lord  of  the  household.  And  they,  who  dare  not 
possess  a  spear  and  a  beautiful  shield,  made  out  of  a  raw 
hide,  all  fall  on  their  knees  to  me,  and  worship  me  as 
their  lord,  and  call  me  mighty  king. 

My  wealth  is  here ;  the  sword  and  spear ; 

The  breast-defending  shield ; 
With  this  I  plough ;  with  this  I  sow ; 

With  this  I  reap  the  field. 
With  this  I  tread  the  luscious  grape. 

And  drink  the  blood-red  wine ; 
And  slaves  around  in  order  wait, 

And  all  are  counted  mine. 
But  he,  who  will  not  rear  the  lance 

Upon  the  battle-field. 
Nor  sway  the  sword,  nor  stand  behind 

The  breast-defending  shield, 
On  lowly  ki^e  must  worship  me, 

With  servile  kiss  adored, 
And  peal  the  cry  of  homage  high. 

And  hail  me  mighty  lord. 

Sir  Danisl  Sandford. 


Much  riches  these  me  yield, 

Mj  gallant  spear  and  sword, 
And  my  brave  hide-cover'd  shield, 

The  bulwark  of  its  lord. 
'Tis  thus  I  reap  and  plough ; 

'Tis  thus  the  sweet  grape  tread ; 
'Tis  thus  the  household  bow, 

And  call  me  lord  and  head. 
By  those,  who  will  not  dare 

The  spear  and  sword  to  wield, 
And  the  bulwark  will  not  bear 

Of  the  brave  hide-cover'd  shield, 
Down  on  their  knees  before  me, 

While  one  and  all  I  bring, 
Must  as  their  liege  adore  me. 

And  hail  me  mighty  king.  Hat. 

O  health!  thou  most  to  be  honoured  amongst  the 
blessed  (powers),  with  thee  may  I  live  the  remainder  of 
life ;  and  may  thou  be  my  careful  fellow-dweller.  For 
if  there  be  to  man  any  pleasure  in  wealth,  or  in  chil- 
dren, and  in  kingly-rme,  equal  to  the  gods,  or  in  the 
desires,  which  we  hunt  after  with  the  hidden  nets  of 
Venus;  or  if  there  has  been  seen  any  other  delight 
given  by  the  gods  to  man,  or  respite  from  labours,  with 
thee,  blessed  health,  all  things  flourish,  and  shines  the 
spring  of  loveliness.    But  without  thee  no  one  is  happy. 

Health,  brightest  visitant  from  heaven, 

Grant  me  with  thee  to  rest ; 
For  the  short  term  by  nature  given. 

Be  thou  my  constant  guest. 
For  all  the  pride  that  wealth  bestows ; 
The  pleasure  that  from  children  flows ; 
Whate'er  we  court  in  regal  state. 
That  makes  men  covet  to  be  great ; 
Whatever  sweet  we  hope  to  find 

In  love's  delightful  snare ; 
Whatever  good  by  heaven  assigned, 

Whatever  pause  from  care ; 


All  flourish  ftt  thy  smile  divine, 

The  spring  of  loveliness  is  thine ; 

And  every  joy  that  warms  our  hearts, 

With  thee  approaches  and  departs.  Bl. 

Hygeia,  thou  most  blest  of  heavenly  powers, 

Oh !  may  I  spend  my  life's  remaining  hours 

With  thee ;  and  deign  thou,  goddess  ever  blest. 

To  dwell  with  me,  a  well-pleased  fellow-guest. 

Since  all  the  joys,  which  wealth  or  offspring  brings, 

The  pomp,  the  power,  the  circumstance  of  kings, 

Whereby  the  monarch  vies  with  gods  above. 

The  eager,  furtive,  toil-won  joys  of  love, 

All  the  delights,  which  heaven  to  man  may  doom, 

Bless'd  Hygeia,  live  with  thee  and  bloom. 

Bright  shines  the  Graces'  spring,  when  thou  art  near. 

And  happy  hours  without  thee  disappear.  Hat. 

Oh  holiest  Health !  all  other  gods  excelling. 

May  I  be  ever  blest 
With  thy  kind  favour,  and  in  life's  poor  dwelling 

Be  thou,  I  pray,  my  constant  guest. 
If  aught  of  grace  or  charm  to  mortals  lingers 
Round  wealth,  or  kingly  sway. 
Or  children's  happy  faces  in  their  play. 
Or  those  sweet  bands  which  Aphrodite's  fingers 

Weave  round  the  trusting  heart. 
Or  whatsoever  joy  or  breathing  space 

Kind  Heaven  has  given  to  worn  humanity. 
Thine  is  the  charm,  to  thee  they  owe  the  grace. 

Life's  chaplet  blossoms  only  where  thou  art, 
And  Pleasure's  year  attains  its  sunny  spring  : 
And  where  thy  smile  is  not,  our  joy  is  but  a  sigh. 

E.  B.  G. 

XCVIU.    WESTMINSTER,    1    BOOK,    1    EP. 
XCIX.  3      —     19   — 

Attic  Maiden,  honey-fed,  why  seize  and  bear  away 
Thy  fellow-prattling  grasshopper,  to  thy  callow  young  a  prey  ? 
FeUow-prattlers,  winged  both,  both  visitants  together. 
The  summer  bird,  the  summer  fly,  both  fond  of  summer 


Oh  !  let  it  go,  it  is  not  just,  t\8  surely  very  wrong, 
That  the  conversant-in-song  should  die  by  the  conversant- 
in-song.  Hat, 

C.    PLATO. 

The  Paphian  Cytherea  (Venus)  came  by  sea  to 
Cnidus,  desirous  of  beholding  her  own  image  ;  and  after 
looking  round  *  every  where  in  a  spot,  seen  all  around,* 
she  cried  out — ^Where  did  Praxiteles  see  me  naked? 
Praxiteles  did  not  see  what  was  not  lawful ;  but  the 
iron  (chisel)  cut  the  Paphian,  such  as  Mars  wished. 

Bright  Cytherea  thought  one  day 

To  Cnidos  she  'd  repair, 
Gliding  across  the  watery  way 

To  view  her  image  there. 
But  when  arrived,  she  cast  around 

Her  eyes  divinely  bright, 
And  saw  upon  that  holy  ground 

The  gazing  world's  delight, 
Amaze^  she  cried — ^while  blushes  told 

The  thoughts  that  swell'd  her  breast — 
Where  did  Praxiteles  behold 

My  form  ?  or  has  he  guess'd  ?  J.  H.  M. 

CI.    THE  SAME. 

The  Graces  seeking  to  obtain  a  sacred  enclosure, 
which  would  nojt  fall  down,  found  it  in  the  soul  of  Aris- 

The  Muses  seeking  for  a  shrine. 
Whose  glories  ne'er  should  cease  : 

Found,  as  they  stray'd,  the  soul  divine 

Of  Aristophanes.  J.  H.  M. 

*— *  In  lieu  ofw&vTfi,  the  sense  seems  to  require  avrirjv,  "  herself,"  and 
vtptffrtifTTtit,  "  trodden  all  round,**  in  lieu  of  TrepifffciTrry— rfor  the  spot 
where  the  statue  stood  was,  no  doubt,  oiuch  trodden  by  persons,  who 
-came  to  see  it,  like  the  shrine  of  Thomas  a  Becket  at  Canterbury. 

N  2 


CII.    THE  SAM£. 

Seat  yourself  by  this  pine^  with  high,  boughs,  that 
murmurs,  while  it  bristles  by  (the  breath  of)  frequent 
Zephyrs,  and  near  the  babbling  riUs  my  pipe  shall  bring 
a  heavy  sleep  upon  thy  soothed  eyelids. 

Sit  by  this  pine,  whose  leaves  are  murmuring  sweet 
And  bristling,  as  the  Zephyrs  frequent  rise  ; 

And  by  the  babbling  rills  my  pipe  shall  greet 
Thy  coming,  and  with  slumber  seal  thine  eyes. 

G.  B. 

cm.    THE  SAME. 

Let  the  rough  tops  of  the  oak-grove  be  silent,  and  the 
rills  from  the  rock,  and  the  much-mingled  bleating  of 
ewes  who  have  young;  since  Pan  himself  is  playing 
on  his  well-toned  pipe,  by  putting  his  flexible  lips  over 
the  united  reeds;  and  the  Nymphs  who  preside  over 
waters,  and  those  who  preside  over  oaks,  have  formed 
a  dance  around  with  their  tender  feet. 

Sleep,  ye  rude  winds,  be  every  murmur  dead 

On  yonder  oak-crown'd  promontory's  head. 

Be  still,  ye  bleating  flocks  ;  your  shepherd  calls  ; 

Hang  silent  on  your  rocks,  ye  waterfalls. 

Pan  on  his  oaten  pipe  awakes  the  strain. 

And  fills  with  dulcet  sounds  the  pastoral  plain  ; 

Lured  by  his  notes,  the  Nymphs  their  bower  forsake 

From  every  fountain,  running  stream,  and  lake. 

From  every  hill  and  ancient  grove  around. 

And  to  symphonious  measures  strike  the  ground. 

J.  H.  M. 

Hush'd  be  the  Dryad  band  on  wooded  rock  ; 
Hush'd  be  the  water's  dash,  and  bleating  flock ; 
E'en  now  his  moist  lips  o'er  the  reeds  he  ran, 
Himself  the  reeds  attuning,  mighty  Pan. 
In  frolic  dance  their  many-twinkling  feet, 
Nymphs  of  the  grove  and  fount,  around  him  beat. 

J.  B. 
^  Scaliger  suggested,  what  Bosch  has  confirmed,  kuvov  for  Kufiov — 

Edwards's  selection.  1^1 

Keep  silence  now,  ye  Dryads'  craggy  rocks, 
Ye  gurgling  founts,  mix'd  bleatings  of  the  flocks ; 
Pan  with  moist  lips  his  well-join'd  pipe  runs  o'er, 
And  the  blithe  reeds  the  jocund  strain  out-pour ; 
While  round  and  round,  on  light  fantastic  toe. 
Dryads  and  Hamadryads  tripping  go.  Hat. 



A  hand^  like  that  of  Daedalus^  designed  the  Satyr,  a 
son  of  Bromius  (Bacchus),  and  threw  into  a  mere  stone 
breath  in  a  divine  manner ;  and  I  am  a  cousin  of  the 
Nymphs ;  and,  instead  of  the  former  purple  wine,  I  pour 
forth  pleasant  water.  Bringing  your  foot  (hither)  direct 
it  in  a  quiet  manner,  lest  perchance  you  rouse  up  the 
boy,  who  is  soothed  by  a  gentle  slumber. 

From  mortals  hands  my  being  I  derive ; 

Mute  marble  once  from  man  I  learn'd  to  live. 

A  Satyr  now,  with  Nymphs  I  hold  resort, 

And  guard  the  watery  grottos  where  they  sport. 

In  purple  wine  denied  to  revel  more. 

Sweet  draughts  of  water  from  my  urn  I  pour. 

But,  stranger,  softly  tread,  lest  any  sound 

Awake  yon  boy,  in  rosy  slumbers  bound.  Bl. 

CV.      ETON  EXTRACTS,    EP.   34. 

By  the  road-side  a  mark  I  stand 

For  every  passing  school-boy's  hand ; 

A  helpless  butt,  whereon  to  try 

The  skill  of  their  rude  archery. 

My  branches  erst  so  widely  spread, 

The  leafy  honours  of  my  hea<^ 

Scatter'd  around  me,  shent  and  broke 

By  many  a  pointed  marble's  stroke. 

Plants  of  the  forest,  pray  that  ne'er 

Your  boughs  may  fruit  or  blossom  bear. 

If  to  be  barren  is  a  curse, 

A  fatal  fruitfulness  is  worse.  J.  H.  M. 


CVI.      ETON  EXTRACTS,    10  EP. 


O  reed !  *  why  hast  thou  rushed  thus  to  the  froth-be- 
gotten (Venus)  I  Why  art  thou  present  thus  far  from  a 
shepherd's  lip?  Here  are  no  precipices  or  valleys. 
But  all  are  Loves  and  Desire ;  but  the  rustic  Muse 
dwells  on  a  mountain. 

Say,  rustic  Pipe,  in  Cytherea's  dome 

Why  sounds  this  echo  of  a  shepherd's  home  ? 

Nor  rocks  nor  valleys  here  invite  the  strain ; 

But  all  is  Love ;  go,  seek  thy  hills  again.        F.  H. 


I,  hapless  Virtue,  sit  here,  close  to  Pleasure,  disgrace- 
ftdly,  having  cut  off  my  ringlets,  and  am  struck  in  my 
mind  with  a  great  grief,  since  pleasure  with  evil  thoughts 
is  judged  by  all  to  be  better  than  myself 

In  woeful  guise  at  Pleasure's  gate, 

I,  Virtue,  as  a  mourner,  wait, 

With  hair  in  loose  disorder  flowing, 

And  breast  with  fierce  resentment  glowing ; 

Since,  in  the  country  round  I  see 

Base  sensual  joys  preferr'd  to  me.  J.  H.  M. 


Nothing  is  more  sweet  than  Love.  What  are  things 
of  wealth,  are  all  secondary.  I  spit  out  from  my  mouth 
even  honey.  This  says  Nossis.  He  whom  Venus  has 
not  loved,  knows  not  of  what  kind  are  her  roses. 

What  in  life  is  half  so  sweet 
As  the  hour  when  lovers  meet  ? 
Not  the  joys  that  Fortune  pours, 
Not  Hymettus*  fragrant  stores. 

'  The  Epigram,  says  Jacobs,  is  supposed  to  be  written  on  a  shepherd's 
pipe  found  in  a  temple  of  Venus. 


Thus  says  Nossis.  Whosoe'er 

Venus  takes  not  to  her  care, 

Never  shall  the  roses  know, 

In  her  blooming  bowers  that  grow.    J.  H.  M. 

ex.   WESTMINSTEB,   2   BOOK,   68   BP. 


The  tablet  has  the  form  of  Thymaret^.  Well  has  it 
represented  her  stately  mien,  and  the  beauty  of  her  mild 
eye.  Even  the  little  lap-dog,  that  guards  the  house, 
would  wag  its  tail  on  beholding  it,  fancying  that  it  saw 
the  mistress  of  the  mansion. 

On  yonder  tablet  graved  I  see 

The  form  of  my  Thymarete  ; 

Her  gracious  smile,  her  lofty  air, 

Warm'd  as  in  life,  are  blended  there. 

Her  little  fondled  dog,  that  keeps 

Still  watch  around  her  while  she  sleeps, 

Would  in  that  shape  his  mistress  trace, 

And  fawning  lick  her  honoured  face.      J.  H.  M. 


This  is  the  spot  of  Venus ;  since  it  was  a  delightful 
thing  for  her  to  be  ever  loolong  upon  the  shining  sea, 
whilst  she  was  bringing  to  an  end  a  voyage  agreeable  to 
sailors.  But  the  sea  around  feels  a  fear,  while  it  looks 
upon  the  glossy  statue. 

Cythera  from  this  craggy  steep 

Looks  downward  on  the  glassy  deep. 

And  hither  calls  the  breathing  gale. 

Propitious  to  the  venturous  sail ; 

While  ocean  flows  beneath,  serene. 

Awed  by  the  smile  of  Beauty's  Queen.       Bl. 


Stranger,  rest  beneath  the  rock^  your  tired  limbs.  A 
breeze  murmurs  sweetly  amongst  the  green  leaves.   And 

'  Instead  of  trirpav  Meineke  would  read  wtitKav — **  the  pine." 


from  a  fountain  the  cold  water  drink ;  for  to  wayfarers 
this  is  an  agreeable  relief  in  the  heat  of  summer.^ 

Stranger,  beneath  this  rock  thy  limbs  bestow. 

Sweet  'mid  the  green  leaves  breezes  whisper  here. 
Drink  the  cool  wave,  while  noon-tide  fervours  glow ; 

For  such  the  rest  to  wearied  pilgrim  dear. 


Stranger,  beneath  the  rock  thy  limbs  repose, 
.  Way-worn.  The  breeze  'midst  green  leaves  sweetly  blows. 
Cool  water  from  a  fountain  drink.     To  tired  feet 
Such  rest  in  smnmer's  heat  is  ever  sweet.  G.  B. 


Sit  every  one^  beneath  the  beautifiil  and  blooming 
leaves  of  a  laurel,  and  draw  the  pleasant  draught  of  a 
seasonable  stream,  whilst  you  are  resting  your  limbs, 
panting  with  the  toils  of  summer,  (and)  struck'  with  the 
breath  of  the  Zephyr. 

Rest  thee  beneath  yon  laurel's  ample  shade, 
And  quaff  the  limpid  stream  that  issues  there ; 

So  thy  worn  frame,  for  summer's  toil  repaid. 
May  feel  the  fireshness  of  the  western  air.        F.  H. 


Drink,  Asclepiades.  Why  are  these  tears  ?  What  are 
you  ailing  ?  Not  of  you  alone  has  harsh-tempered  Venus 
made  a  spoil ;  lior  against  you  alone  has  spiteful  Love 
directed*  his  bow  and  arrows.  Why  still  living  are  you 
placed  amongst  ashes  ?  Let  us  quaff  a  strong  draught 
of  Bacchus.     The  morn  is  our  finger-guide*  (for  drink- 

*  In  lieu  of  Oepfitf,  the  poQit  evidently  wrote  9eptv<^ 

'  Instead  of  "l^ev  AVaf,  Jacobs  would  read  "li;€w  raffs' — 

*  In  lieu  of  TvirTSfieva,  Runken  would  read  }l/vx6fiiva :  one  would  pre- 
fer TtpirSfitva, 

*  As  icaT€BriKaTo  means  "  has  laid  down,"  which  is  here  unintelligible, 
the  poet  wrote,  perhaps,  kuk'  k^Tfici  rd —  Meineke  suggests  KfiTirtivaTO — 

*  In  SdicrvKoQ  iutg  is  an  allusion  to  SaKTvXog  afikpa,  in  a  fragment  of 
Alcaeus  preseryedby  AthemBUs,  x.  p.  430. 

Edwards's  selection.  185 

ing) ;  or  wait  we  to  see  the  lamp  that  puts  us  to  sleep 
again.  Drink  we  then  gaily.  After  a  period  not  long, 
we  shall,  O  hapless  one,  repose  through  the  long  night 
(of  death).  * 

Drink,  Asclepiades.     Why  stream  thine  eyes  ? 

Art  thou  alone  resistless  Beauty's  prize  ? 

Hast  thou  alone  sustain'd  the  piercing  darts 

Which  sportive  Love  directs  at  human  hearts  ? 

Why  buried  thus  alive  ?   The  rosy  ray 

Of  mom  fades  swiftly.     Drink  thy  cares  away. 

Wait  we  again  the  lamps  of  drowsy  night  ? 

With  wine,  with  vdne  salute  the  dawning  light. 

A  few  short  hours,  and  all  our  joys  are  o'er ; 

We  sleep  in  darkness  and  shall  quaff  no  more.    F.  H. 


The  remnant  of  life,  whatever  it  may  be,  do  ye,  O 
Loves,  dismiss  by  the  gods,  so  as  to  enjoy  quietness. 
But  if  not,  do  not  strike  me  with  arrows,  but  with  thun- 
derbolts, and  reduce  me  completely  to  ashes  and  char- 
coal. Yes,  yes,  strike  me,  ye  Loves ;  for  I  am  willing, 
if  there  be  any  evil  greater  than  this,  to  endure  it,  after 
being  reduced  to  a  skeleton  by  sorrows. 

All  that  is  left  me  of  my  soul, 

That  little  all,  O  Love,  release ; 
Release,  kind  Love,  from  all  control, 

Arid  let  me  be  at  peace. 
Or,  if  in  vain  for  ease  I  pray, 

Bid  not  thy  shafts,  but  lightnings,  fly, 
That  so  I  may  consume  away 

To  ashes,  where  I  lie. 
Strike  then,  kind  Love ;  nay,  do  not  spare ; 

And,  if  aught  worse  thou  hast  in  store, 
I  do  not  ask  thee  to  forbear ; 

But  rather  strike  the  more.  J.  H.  M. 


O  Night,  for  I  call  thee,  not  any  other  (deity),  to 
witness  how  Pythias,  the  daughter  oi  Nico,  has  insulted 


me,  by  being  a  friend  deceitfully*  I  came  invited,  and 
not  without  an  invitation.  May  she  suffer  in  the  same 
way,  and  standing  at  my  porch  find  fault  with  you. 

Witness,  Night — ^I  ask  no  more — 

What  a  fool  Melissa  made  me ; 
When  to  be  her  paramour, 

First  she  lured  and  then  betray'd  me. 
Not  uncaird  I  sought  her  door, 
I,  her  chosen  paramour. 
Witness,  Night,  who  saw  me  wait 

All  your  long  and  dreary  hours, 
Sighing,  shivering  at  her  gate. 

Grant  me  this,  ye  amorous  powers — 
May  she  live  herself  to  be 
Cheated,  as  she  cheated  me«  J.  H.  M. 


You  spare  your  virginity.  And  what  profits  it  ?  For 
when  you  have  gone  to  Hades,  you  will  not  find,  my 
girl,  a  lover  (there).  The  joys  of  Venus  are  amongst 
the  living.  But  in  Acheron,  we  lie,  O  virgin,  bones 
and  dust. 

StiU  glorying  in  thy  virgin  flower  ? 

Yet,  in  the  gloomy  shades  below, 

No  lovers  will  approach  thy  bower ; 

Love's  pleasures  with  the  living  flow. 
Virgin,  we  shall  be  dust  alone 
On  the  sad  shore  of  Acheron.  J.  H.  M. 


Snow,  hurl  hail,  make  darkness,  bum  with  lightninff,^ 
shake  the  clouds,  that  render  all  things  on  earth  of  a 
livid  colour.  For  if  you  kill  me,*  I  will  then  cease. 
But  if  you  leave  me  to  live,  and  yet  distribute  things 
worse  than  these,  I  will  revel.  For  a  deity,  who  is  even 
thy  master,  O  Jove,  draws  me  along,  persuaded  once  by 

'  The  Greek  is  at  present  aWf,  Kipavvov.  It  was  originally  cdOc  ks- 
pavvf.    Ck)mpare  Ep.  342,  KtpavvtS  pdWe—^ 


whom  yoil  passed^  as  gold^  through  nuptial  chambers 
of  brass.^ 

Snow  on ;  hail  on ;  cast  darkness  all  around  me ; 

Let  loose  thy  thunders ;  with  thj  lightnings  wound  me ; 

I  care  not,  Jove,  but  thy  worst  rage  defy ; 

Nor  will  I  cease  to  revel,  till  I  die. 

Spare  but  my  life,  and  let  thy  thunders  roar, 

^d  lightnings  flash,  1 11  only  revel  more. 

Thunderer !  a  god  more  potent  far  than  thee. 

To  whom  e'en  thou  hast  yielded,  maddens  me.  J.  H.  M. 


This  is  a  likeness  of  Venus.  Come,  let  us  see  if  it  be 
not  of  Berenice.  I  am  in  doubt  to  which  of  the  two  a 
person  would  say  it  is  more  like. 

This  form  is  Cytherea*s.     Nay, 

'Tis  Berenice's,  I  protest. 
So  like  to  both,  you  safely  may 

Give  it  to  either  you  like  best.         J.  H.  M. 


This  is  the  sweet  labour  of  Erinna.  It  is  not  much, 
as  being  that  of  a  virgin's  nineteen  years  old,  but  of 
greater  power  than  many  others ;  and  had  not  Hades 
come  to  me  quickly,  who  would  have  obtained  an  equal 


Catch  well  thy  prey,  hare-hunter ;  and  if  thou  art  in 
pursuit  of  birds,  and  comest  with  bird-lime  under  this 
double  hill,^  call  from  the  cliff  upon  me,  the  wood- 
guardian  Pan,  and  I  wiU  hunt  together  with  dogs  and 

*  This  alludes  to  the  story  of  Danae,  told  by  Horace,  "Inclusam 
Danaen,"  &c. 

'  By  a  double  hill  Brunck  understands  a  valley  between  two  hills. 
Instead  however  of  rovff  virb  haobv  SpoCi  the  poet  wrote  perhaps  tovS* 
itir*  tr  &aoov  Spov^,  i.  e.  still  nearer  under  this  hill.  Toup  merely  reads 
Xtaabv  for  iiaobv^-^ 


Good  luck  to  you,  sportsman,  while  chasing  the  hare, 
Or  plying  for  birds  in  this  dell  the  limed  snare ; 
Me,  the  forester  Pan,  from  a  crag  if  you  call, 
111  help  you  to  quarry  with  dogs,  reeds,  and  all. 

G.  Bo. 

Behold  the  old  Anacreon,  abundantly  shaken  by  wine, 
with  a  garland*  (on  his  head),  upon  a  well-turned  mar- 
ble (seat).  How  the  old  fellow  looks  with  eyes  lascivi- 
ous and  moist,  and  has  drawn  his  robe  down  to  his 
heels ;  but  one  of  his  slippers  he  has,  like  a  drimken 
man,  lost;  and  the  other  fitted  to  his  wrinkled  foot. 
And  he  is  singing  either  of  the  lovely  Bathyllus,  or 
Megisteus,  while  raising  on  high  the  lyre,  ill-suited 
to  love,^  with  his  hand.  But  do  you,  father  Dionysus, 
guard  him.  For  it  is  not  reasonable  that  a  servant  of 
Bacchus  should,  through  Bacchus,  fall. 

Come,  see  your  old  Anacreon, 

How,  seated  on  his  couch  of  stone. 

With  silvery  temples  garlanded. 

He  quaffs  the  rich  wine  rosy-red. 

How,  with  flush'd  cheek  and  swimming  eye, 

In  drunken  fashion  from  his  thigh 

He  lets  his  robe  unheeded  steal, 

And  drop  and  dangle  o'er  his  heel. 

One  sandal 's  off,  one  scarce  can  hide 

The  lean  and  shrivell'd  foot  inside. 

Old  Anacreon  !  hark,  he  sings 

Still  of  love  to  th'  old  harp-strings. 

Still,  Bathylla,  still,  Megiste, 

How  he  coax'd  ye,  how  he  kiss'd  ye. 

Gentle  Bacchus,  watch  and  wait, 

You  must  watch,  and  hold  him  straight ; 

Hold  him  up  ;  for  if  he  fall. 

You  lose  your  boldest  Bacchanal.  C.  M, 

*  In  lieu  of  frrpcirrbv,  Jacobs  has  ingeniously  suggested  <rrs7rrdv — 
'  Jacobs  explains  rdv  dvtrkpwTa  by  "  to  which  his  unsuccessful  lores 
are  sung."    But  such  a  meaning  would  be  perfectly  inadmissible.    The 
words  conceal  a  corruption  not  difficult  to  be  corrected. 


See  on  this  rounded  pedestal 

The  old  Anacreon  crown'd 
With  garlands,  while  his  senses 

In  floods  of  wine  are  drown'd. 
His  swimming  eyes  are  twinkling 

With  sparks  of  soft  desire, 
While  at  his  ancles  dangling 

He  drags  his  loose  attire. 
And,  like  a  man  wine-stricken. 

One  buskin  he  hath  on 
A  foot  so  old  and  shrivell'd ; 

The  other  buskin  *s  gone. 
And  in  his  hand  upraising 

His  harp,  he  softly  sings 
Bathyllus  or  Megisteus, 

Or  the  pains  which  loving  brings. 
Protect  him,  father  Bacchus ; 

'Tis  neither  meet  nor  fair, 
A  Bacchanalian  votary 

Should  fall  from  lack  of  care.  Hat. 

Upon  this  rounded  pedestal  behold  Anacreon  placed ; 
FHl'd  f  uU  of  wine,  as  if  in  life,  and  with  a  garland  graced. 
The  old  man  he  looks  swimmingly  around  with  amorous 

And  cb:ags  about  his  ancles'^his  garments,  as  he  hies. 
Of  his  two  buskins  one,  you  see,  like  a  drunkard  he  hath  tint. 
And  the  other — ^what  a  shrivell'd  foot — gramercy,  is  got  in 't. 
He  needs  must  sing  too,  lifting  up  his  love-resounding  lyre. 
For  Bathyllus  or  Megisteus  hath  his  soul  set  all  on  fire. 
Fly,  father  Bacchus,  to  his  aid,  or  you  11  be  blamed  by  all ; 
Shame  to  your  godship  'twere  to  let  such  votary  get  a  fall. 


Do  not,  way-farer,  drink  here  the  warm  water  from  a 
pond  surrounded^  by  mud,  and  freq^uented  by  sheep, 
but  go  a  little  further  over  the  high  ground,  where  heifers 

^  This  is  the  only  meaning  one  can  gire  to  rrspirXtov,  But  the  author 
wrote  perhaps  irvpbg  irXkov,  which  he  meant  to  unite  to  Otpfibv — **  more 
hot  than  fire—" 


feed;  there  by  that  shepherd's  pine  you  will  find  a 
stream  babbling  though  a  rock,  with  a  pleasant  fountain, 
and  colder  than  the  snow  of  the  North. 

Not  here,  0  thirsty  traveller,  stop  to  drink, 
The  sun  has  warm'd,  and  flocks  cUsturVd  its  brink ; 
But  climb  yon  upland,  where  the  heifers  play, 
Where  that  tall  pine  excludes  the  sultry  day ; 
There  will  you  find  a  bubbling  rill,  that  flows 
Down  the  smooth  rock,  more  cold  than  Thracian  snows. 


Too  lonely  is  this  place ;  nor  cool,  nor  clear 
The  torrent's  water ;  wanderer,  drink  not  here ; 
Climb  but  yon  knoll,  the  heifer's  pasture  sweet ; 
There  by  yon  pine,  the  shepherd's  noon-day  seat, 
Thou  It  see  from  out  its  rocky  fountain  flow 
The  gurgling  waye,  more  cold  than  Scythian  snow. 

G.  S. 


Apelles  having  seen  the  well-bedded  ^  Venus,  as  she 
escaped  from  the  bosom  of  her  mother,*  and  shining 
with  the  foam  (of  the  sea),  moulded  a  form  of  beauty, 
most  desirable,  not  painted,  but  alive.  For  well  does 
she,  with  the  ends  oi  her  fingers,  squeeze  out  her  hair, 
and  well  does  calm  desire  shine  from  out  her  eyes ;  and 
her  bosom,  the  messenger  of  the  prime  of  youth,  is 
swelling.  And  Athen^  and  the  wife  of  Jove  will  say — 
We  axe  inferior,  O  Jove,  in  the  trial. 

From  her  mother's  bosom  flying, 
Glistening  with  the  salt  sea-foam, 

Our  Apelles  Venus  spying. 
Bade  his  daring  pencil  roam 

O'er  her  beauties,  rapture  giving, 

Not  to  paint  but  catch  them  living. 

'  Bosch  compares  tiAexi  Kvirptv  with  cvXIcrpov  vvfifag  in  Soph. 
Antig.  796. 
3  In  the  text,  given  by  Edwards,  finrgoQ  is  omitted 


'Tis  thus  her  fingers  small  she  weaves 

In  her  long  and  dripping  tresses  ; 
'Tis  thus  her  full  round  bosom  heaves, 

Like  rich  fruit,  that  Autumn  blesses. 
While  her  goddess-rivals  say — 
"  Mighty  Jove,  we  yield  the  day.**        J.  H.  M. 

From  her  own  mother's  bosom  just  escaped 

Came  genial  Venus,  while  adown  her  skin 

The  foam-bells  sparkled.     Her  Apelles  saw 

In  all  her  kindling  beauty,  and  there  fix'd 

Not  her  bright  semblance,  but  her  breathing  self. 

See  with  what  grace  her  finger-tips  express 

The  moisture  from  her  hair,  and  beautiful 

Is  passion's  lustre,  mildly  beaming  forth 

From  her  large  eyes ;  and  oh !  that  swelling  breast 

Heralds  perfection  by  its  quince-like  round. 

Minerva's  self,  and  Jove's  own  queen  exclaim — 

Yes,  Jupiter,  to  her  we  yield  the  palm.  Hat. 


The  fiery  sun,  while  rolling  his  chariot-wheels,  has 
caused  to  d&sappear  the  stars  and  the  holy  circle  of  the 
moon.  And  Homer  has  reduced  to  nothingness  the 
crowd  of  minstrels  by  holding  up  the  most  brilliant  light 
of  the  Muses, 

Rolling  his  chariot  round,  the  fiery  sim 

Blots  out  the  stars,  and  the  moon's  holy  light ; 

The  host  of  bards  thus  Homer  has  outdone. 
Holding  the  Muses'  torch  so  high  and  bright. 

F.  H. 

CXXVn.   WESTMINSTEB,  3   BOOK,   39   EP. 

Eurotas  erst  to  Cypris  said — 

"  Or  clad  in  arms  appear. 
Or  hence  depart.     This  city  raves 

For  buckler,  sword,  and  spear." 
"  Nay,"  faintly  laughing,  she  replied, 
•   "  Though  I  unarm'd  remain, 
Yet  Lacedsemon  shall  no  less 

Be  held  my  favour'd  reign." 


Ne'er  yet  was  Cytherea  seen 

Array'd  in  horrid  mail ; 
And  shameless  they,  who  Sparta's  name 

Brand  with  so  false  a  tale.  J.  H.  M. 


If  quick  wings  are  stretched  about  your  back,  and 
the  far-darting  points  of  Scythian  arrows,  shall  I  fly  from 
you.  Love,  beneath  the  earth?  For  what  avails  it? 
Since  not  even  Hades,  the  all-subduer,  has  escaped 
your  power. 

If  on  thy  back  are  stretched  quick-flying  wings, 
And  Scythia's  arrows  with  far-darting  stings, 
Beneath  the  earth  from  thee,  Love,  shall  I  fly? 
No  ;  Hades,  conquering  all,  can't  thee  defy.       G-.  B. 


This  is  the  season  for  sailing.  For  the  twittering 
swallow  has  already  come,  and  the  pleasant  Zephyr; 
and  the  meadows  are  in  flower,  and  silent  has  become 
the  sea,  broken  (lately)  by  waves  and  the  rough  gale. 
Take  up  the  anchors,  sailor,  and  let  loose  the  ropes,  and 
set  sail,  giving  out  the  whole  canvass.  This  do  I,  Pria- 
pus,  enjoin,  who  inhabit  the  harbour,  in  order  that  you, 
O  man,  may  set  sail  for  every  kind  of  traffic. 

Haste  to  the  port !  The  twittering  swallow  calls. 

Again  retum'd  ;  the  wintry  breezes  sleep  ; 
The  meadows  laugh  ;  and  warm  the  Zephyr  falls 
On  Ocean's  breast,  and  calms  the  fearful  deep. 
Now  spring  your  cables,  loiterers  ;  spread  your  sails ; 

O'er  the  smooth  surface  of  the  waters  roam  : 
So  shall  your  vessel  glide  with  friendly  gales. 
And,  fraught  with  foreign  treasure,  waft  you  home. 

'Tis  time  to  sail.     Soft  blows  the  breeze ; 
The  twittering  swallow  now  is  heard ; 
The  fields  are  green,  and  still  the  seas. 
By  no  rough  blast  or  billow  stirr'd. 

Edwards's  selection.  193 

Cut  cable,  mariner ;  aboard ; 

Weigh  anchor ;  set  thy  canvass  free ; 
Priapus  bids,  the  harbour's  lord ; 

Ofl^  off,  with  every  argosy.  G.  S. 

This  is  the  time  for  sailing.     Back  again 

The  twittering  swallow  comes,  and  Zephyrs  mild  ; 
The  meadows  are  in  flower ;  and  still  the  main. 

Lately  with  blustering  winds  and  billows  wild. 
Draw  up  the  anchor,  sailor ;  ropes  let  go ; 

And  all  the  canvass  let  the  breeze  fill  well : 
To  thee  Priapus,  near  the  port,  says  so  ; 

That  thou  of  traffic  may  the  profits  tell.  G.  B. 


The  skipping  and  well-bearded  husband  of  a  female 
goat,^  once  in  the  enclosure  of  a  vineyard  nibbled  all 
the  tender  branches.  To  whom  a  voice  from  the  ground 
spoke  thus  much  :  "  Nip  off,'0  thou  most  wicked  one, 
with  thy  jaws  our  fruit-bearing  branch ;  for  the  root, 
still  secure,  will  send  up  again  sweet  nectar,  enough  to 
pour  upon  thee,  O  goat,  when  sacrificed." 


Ye  water-nymphs,  the  race  of  Dorus,*  may  ye  come 
and  irrigate  this  garden  of  Timocles.  For  Timocles,  the 
gardener,  ever  brings  from  these  gardens  gifts  to  you, 
damsels,  in  season. 


Thou  old  nurse  of  a  loved  one,'  why  do  you  bark  at 
me,  while  approaching  (you),  and  harshly  throw  me  into 

*  Jacobs  quotes  opportunely  from  Virgil  —  "  pecori— maritum,"  and 
from  Horace,  "  olentis  uxores  mariti." 

*  By  Awpov  ykvog  Jacobs  understands  "  the  race  of  some  unknown 
stream,  that  bore  probably  that  name."  Graefe  would  read  Supbv  ysvog — 
He  should  have  suggested  Sdp'  lav  ydvog — "  whose  gifts  are  water — " 
— For  thus  the  gifts  of  the  Water-Nymphs  would  answer  to  the  gifts  of 
the  gardener.     Meineke  suggests  Awtov,  referring  to  Steph.  Byz.  in 


^  The  sense  requires  ^iXtig,  not  ^tKtjf  as  remarked  by  Jacobs. 


twice  ^  as  many  pains.  For  you  are  leading  a  very  beau- 
tiful virgin,  on  whose  steps  I  am  treading.  See,  how  I 
am  going  along  my  own  path.  It  is  sweet  merely  to 
look  upon  (her)  form.  What  grudging  of  eyes  (is  there), 
'  thou  wretched  one  ?  We  look  upon  the  forms  of  even 
the  immortals. 

Guardian  of  yon  blushing  fair, 

Reverend  matron,  tell  me,  why 
You  affect  that  churlish  air. 

Snarling,  as  I  pass  you  by  ? 
I  deserve  not  such  rebuke ; 
AU  I  ask  is  but  to  look. 
True,  I  on  her  steps  attend ; 

True,  I  cannot  choose  but  gaze ; 
But  I  meant  not  to  offend ; 

Common  are  the  pubUc  ways. 
And  I  need  not  your  rebuke. 
When  I  follow  but  to  look. 
Are  my  eyes  so  much  in  fault. 

That  they  cannot  choose  but  see  ? 
By  the  gods  we  're  homage  taught ; 

Homage  is  idolatry. 
Spare  that  undeserved  rebuke, 
E'en  the  gods  permit  to  look.  J.  H.  M. 


Why,  hapless  daughter  of  Pandion,  dost  thou  aU  day 
long  warble  in  sorrow  the  sweet  notes  through  thy 
mouth.  Has  a  regret  for  thy  virginity  come  upon  thee, 
which  the  Thracian  Tereus  enjoyed,  by  dreadfully  vio- 
lating thee  ? 

Why  all  day  long,  Pandion's  hapless  child. 
Pour  out  thy  sorrows  in  so  sad  a  ditty  ? 
Is  it  for  thai  sweet  flower  lost — oh  tale  of  pity — 

By  Tereus  torn,  the  Thracian  spoiler  wild.      J.  H.  M, 

^  Meineke  suggests  ^i)  for  Slg. 

Edwards's  selection.  195 


Art  thou  willing,  by  the  Muses,  to  play  something 
pleasant  to  me  with  the  double  pipe  ?  and  I,  lifting  up 
the  tambourine,  will  begin  to  make  a  noise ;  and  do  you, 
Daphnis,  a  herdsman,  sing  near,  pleased  with  the  air 
from  the  wax-bound  (reeds).  And  let  us,  standing 
near  to  the  shaggy-necked  ^  cave,  deprive  Pan,  the  goat- 
herd,^ of  sleep. 


O  thou  unhappy  Thyrsis,  what  avails  it,  should  you 
waste  away  your  two-eyed  visage  by  tears  and  moaning  ? 
The  female  kid,  a  lovely  youngling,  has  gone ;  has  gone 
to  Hades.  For  a  rough-haired  wolf  has  throttled  it  with 
its  paws,  whiliB  the  dogs*  are  howling.  What  avails  it  ? 
since  not  a  bone-,  nor  even  ashes  of  the  departed,  are  left. 

What  boots  it,  hapless  Thyrsis,  though  your  eyes 
Should  waste  in  tears,  your  breast  dissolve  in  sighs  ? 
Lost  is  the  kid — ^for  ever  lost  above- 
Tom  by  the  wolf's  sharp  fangs — the  kid  you  love. 
EEark,  how  the  dogs  upbraid  thy  fruitless  moans ; 
He  left  not  e'en  the  ashes  of  his  bones.  C.  M. 

Ah !  wretched  Thyrsis,  what  avail  thy  sighs  ? 
Ah !  what  avail  thy  twain,  tear-moisten'd  eyes  ? 
Thy  kid,  dear  kid,  hath  enter'd  Orcus'  jaws ; 
For  the  fierce  wolf  has  clutch'd  her  in  his  claws. 
While  the  dogs  bark ;  ah  !  nought  avail  thy  groans ; 
Ne'er  shalt  thou  see  the  ashes  of  her  bones.  Hat. 

Mischievous  Love,  having  laid  aside  his  torch  and 
arrows,  took  up  an  ox-driving  stick,  and  placed  a  wallet 
adown  his  shoulders ;  and,  having  united  the  hard-work- 
ing necks  of  bulls  under  a'  yoke,  he  went  sowing  the 
wheat-bearing  furrow  of  Ceres ;   and  looking  up,  he 

>  As  the  MSS.  vary  between  \a<navxBvoQ  and  \a<riag  ^pv6f ,  it  is  evi- 
dent they  conceal  some  other  reading,  still  to  be  discovered. 
'  Brunpk  correctly  reads  aiyojSdrav,  in  lieu  of  aiyi^drav — 
0  2 


said  thus  to  Jove  himself— "  Fill  ^  the  ploughed  land 
(with  rain),  lest  I  put  you,  the  bull  of  Europa,  under 
plough — (harness).'* 

His  torch,  and  bow,  and  arrows  laid  aside, 

And  rustic  wallet  o'er  his  shoulders  tied. 

Sly  Cupid,  always  on  new  mischiefs  bent, 

To  fields  in  tillage,  fit  for  furrowg,  went. 

Like  any  ploughman  toil'd  the  litde  god ; 

His  tune  he  whistled,  and  his  wheat  he  sow'd. 

Then  sat  and  laugh'd,  and  to  the  skies  above, 

Raising  his  eyes,  he  thus  insulted  Jove : 

"  Lay  by  your  hail ;  the  hateful  storm  restrain. 

And,  as  I  bid  you,  let  it  shine  or  rain ; 

Else  you  again  beneath  my  yoke  shall  bow, 

Europa's  bull,  and  draw  the  rustic  plough,"    Prior. 

Laying  aside  his  bow  and  torch,  a  whip 

Severe  Love  took,  and  at  his  side  a  scrip ; 

Then  on  the  patient  oxen  doth  impose 

A  yoke,  and  in  the  fertile  furrow  sows ; 

And  looking  up—"  Good  weather,  Jove  ;  or  thou," 

Saith  he,  "  Europa's  bull,  shalt  draw  my  plough." 

T.  STAlfLET. 

The  sportsman,  Epicyd^s,  searches  after  every  hare 
in  the  mountains,  and  the  footsteps  of  every  fawn,  making 
use  of  the  hoar-frost  and  the  snow.  But  if  any  one  says 
— *'  Here,  this  animal  has  been  hit " — ^he  does  not  take  it 
up.  And  such  is  my  love.  It  knows  how  to  pursue 
what  flies  from  it ;  but  it  flies  past  what  lies  before  it.* 

Mark,  Epicydes,  how  the  hunter  bears 
His  honours  in  the  chase.     When  timid  hares 
And  nobler  stags  he  tracks  through  frost  and  snow 
O'er  mountains,  echoing  to  the  vsJes  below, 

*  Valckenaer,  justly  objecting  to  irXffffoVy  proposed  to  read  iBpk^ov, 
"  moisten — *'  How  strange  he  did  not  see  that  the  poet  wrote,  EZttc  c'  avia 
pKkypag—ZiVy  O^dan  trXiiffov — not  aifrtf  Ait  irXifffov :  where  aifTif  is  per- 
fectly without  meaning,  while  OiJ^art  is  the  contraction  of  rtf  U^arc,  i.  e. 
"  thy  water." 

'  This  Epigram  is  translated  almost  literally  by  Horace,  in  I.  Sat.  ii. 
105,  9fi  remarked  by  Jacobs. 

Edwards's  sklectiok.  197 

If  then  some  clown  bawls  out — "  Here,  master,  here, 

Lies  panting  at  your  feet  the  stricken  deer — " 

He  takes  no  heed,  but  starts  for  newer  game. 

Such  is  my  love,  and  such  his  arrows'  aim ; 

That  follows  still  with  speed  the  flying  fair. 

But  deems  the  yielding  slave  below  his  care.     J.  H.  M. 

The  hunter,  used  to  frost  and  snow. 
Tracks  o'er  the  mountains  every  roe 

And  every  timid  hare. 

But  say  to  him — "  Ho !  there. 
Look  to  your  stricken  game — "  he  takes  no  heed. 

My  passion,  Epicydes,  is  the  same ; 
I  chase  each  •flying  nymph  with  eager  speed. 

But  pass  with  disregard  the  yielding  dame.     H.  W. 


So  may  you  sleep,  Conopion,  us  you  cause  me  to  lie 
at  these  cold  portals.  So  may  you  sleep,  most  unjust 
one,  as  you  cause  your  lover  to  lie ;  and  with  not  even 
the  shadow  of  pity  have  you  given  him  to  meet.*  The 
neighbours  pity  me.  But  you  not  even  the  shadow  of 
it.  But  your  grey  hair  will  shortly  remind  you  of  all 
these  matters. 

Such  sleep,  Conopion,  on  thine  eyelids  wfdt. 
As  sits  on  his,  now  shivering  at  thy  gate. 
Such  sleep,  thou  false  one,  as  thou  bidst  him  prove, 
Who  vainly  sues  thy  stony  breast  to  move. 
Not  e'en  a  shade  of  pity  thou  'It  bestow. 
.  Others  may  weep  to  see  me  suffer  so ; 
But  thou — not  e'en  a  shade.    Oh  cruel  fair ! 
Be  this  remember'd  with  thy  first  grey  hair.     J.  H.  M. 


The  Graces  are  four.  For,  in  addition  to  the  three 
well  known,  one  has  lately  been  moulded;  and  still 

*  As  dvTidu  is  not  elsewhere  united  to  an  accusative — for  in  the 
Homeric  ifc^v  Xlx^C  dvrioiauav  the  sense  is,  "  meeting  me,  as  my  con- 
cubine— **  in  rivTiciaaQ  perhaps  lies  hid  iqv  Itt'  daaiQ,  "  has  been  for  my 


droppinff  with  myrrh  is  the  happily  liviug  Berenice,  an 
object  of  envy  amongst  all ;  without  whom,  not  even  the 
Graces  themselves  are  Graces. 

Four  are  the  Graces.     With  the  three  of  old 
Be  Berenice's  heavenly  form  enroU'd, 
Breathing  fresh  odours.    They  no  more  would  be 
Graces  themselves  without  her  company.     F.  H.  M. 

The  Graces,  three  erewhile,  are  three  no  more ; 
A  fourth  is  come,  with  perfume  sprinkled  o'er. 
'Tis  Berenic6,  blest  and  fair ;  were  she 
Away,  the  Graces  would  no  Graces  be.  G.  S. 


Let  us  drink :  for  we  may  find,  while  at  wine,  some- 
thing novel,  and  something  neat,  and  something  sweet 
to  say.  Wet  me  then  with  casks  of  Chian,  and  say, 
"  Indulge,  Hedylus,  in  fun ;  I  hate  to  live,  by  not  being 
drunk,  in  vain." 

Drink  we.     'Midst  our  flowing  wine, 

Something  new,  or  something  fine. 

Something  witty,  something  gay, 

We  shall  ever  find  to  say. 

Flasks  of  Ghian  hither  bring, 

SprinkUng  o'er  me,  whilst  you  sing — 

"  Jovial  poet,  sport  and  play  ; 

Sober  souls  throw  Hfe  away."  J.  H.  M. 


No  more,  O  Nymph-begotten  Satyr,  shaltthou  through 
pine-producing  Phrygia  play,  as  erst,  a  strain,  speaking 
through, the  well-bored  reeds;  nor,  as  before,  shalt 
bloom  in  thine  hands  the  work  of  the  Tritonian  Ath^n^. 
For  thou  art  kept  down  as  to  thy  hands  by  chains,  not 
to  be  loosened ;  because  thou,  a  mortal,  didst  meet  Phoe- 
bus in  a  divine  contest :  and  the  pipe  which  sounded  a 
-strain,  equally  sweet  with  the  harp,  has  given  after  the 
contest  not  a  garland,  but  Hades. 

Edwards's  selection.  199 


No  more  through  Phrygians  pine-bearing  land 
Shalt  thou,  as  erst,  O  Nymph-bom  Satyr,  play ; 

Nor  bid  through  well-bored  reeds  the  strains  expand 
From  what  Athene  fashion'd  ;  for  in  chains, 

Not  to  be  loosen'd,  are  thy  fingers  bound  ; 

And  pipes,  that  breathed  the  harp's  mellifluous  strains, 

Have  garland  none  for  thee,  but  Hades  found  •; 
Since  a  mere  mortal  thou  didst  dare  to  call 
To  contest  Phoebus,  lord  of  music  all.  G.  B. 

'cXLin.   WESTMINSTER,  2   BOOK,   62   EP. 

Who  has  thus  fettered  you  and  made  you  unholily  a 
captive?  Who  has  bound  your  hands  in  folds,  and 
devised  your  dirty  face  ?  Where  are  your  rapid  arrows, 
infant  ?  Where  the  bitter  and  fire-bearing  quiver  ? 
Surely  the  sculptor  has  laboured  vainly,  who  in  this  net 
hath  bound  you,  who  cause  the  gods  to  be  tost  wave- 
like with  madness. 


Breathe,  Pan,  the  mountain-treader,  a  strain  with  thy 
pleasant  lips ;  breathe  it,  delighted  with  the  shepherd's 
reed,  and  pour  forth  melody  with  thy  sweet-sounding 
pipe;  and  rattle  away,  directing  the  harmony  of  thy 
fellow-minstrel's  words.  And  around  thee,  according  to 
the  beat  of  the  rhythm,  let  a  divine  footing  break  out 
from  these  Water-Nymphs. 


Who  has  tied  up  to  this  oak  the  newly  despoiled 
arms?  Whose  Dorian  small-shield  has  an  inscription 
on  it?  ^Who  of  the  brigade  at  Thyria  has  approached 
after  the  bloody  battle  ?  ^     We  are  left,  the  only  two  of 

* — '  In  lieu  of  Ovptanc  v^*  aifiaroc,  which  is  unintelligible,  the  sense 
requires  Ovpk^  rtc  &<!>*  ainaroQ —  For  it  appears  from  Herodotus,  i.  82, 
where  the  story  is  told  to  which  Dioscorides  alludes,  that  the  Spartan, 
Othryades,  before  his  own  death,  which  took  place  after  the  Arpives  had 
run  away  from  the  battle-field,  wrote  with  his  own  blood  on  his  shield, 


the  Argives.  Search  every  corpse  that  has  &Ilen^  lest 
some  one,  left  still  alive,  shall  cause  to  shine  ^  a  bastard 
glory  at  Sparta.  Stop  your  going.  For  the  victory  of 
the  Laconians  is  proclaimed  on  this*  shield  by  drops  of 
the  blood  of  Othryades,  and  he  who  laboured  at  this 
work  is  gasping  near.  Oh  ancestral  Jove,  hate  the 
marks  of  a  fight,  where  victory  is  not. 

CXLVn.  WESTMINSTER,   8   BOOK,   40  EP. 


Venus  is  not  at  Sparta,  as  in  other  cities,  placed  as  a 
statue,  dressed  in  soft  garments ;  but  on  her  head  she 
has  a  helmet  instead  of  a  veil,  and  instead  of  golden 
boughs,^  a  spear.  For  it  is  not  meet  that  she,  who  is 
the  wife  of  the  Thracian  Mars,  and  a  Lacedsemonian, 
should  be  without  arms. 

A  Spartan  Venus  !  yes,  for  there  she  stands, 

Not  in  soft  vestments,  as  in  other  lands ; 

A  helmet's  weight  and  not  a  veil  she  wears ; 

No  golden  myrtle,  but  a  lance  she  bears. 

So  should  it  be ;  a  warlike  Spartan's  dame 

And  Mars'  ovm  queen  should  be  equipp'd  the  same. 


The  deep  neck  of  a  bull,  and  the  iron-like  shoulders 
of  Atlas,  and  the  hair  and  the  solemn  beard  of  Hercules, 
and  the  eyes  of  a  lion  in  the  Milesian  giant,*  not  even  the 
Olympian  Jupiter  beheld  without  alarm,  what  time  Ni- 
cophon  conquered  men  in  boxing  at  Olympia. 

that  he  was  the  conqueror;  whom  the  Epigrammatist  feigns  that  the 
two  Argives,  who  had  fled,  but  afterwards  returned  to  the  fidd,  found  in 
a  dying  state. 

*  Jacobs  takes  (Xaftype  in  a  transitive  sense. 

'  Meineke  suggests  cKTiriBi  rqide  in  lieu  of  dffviSoc  Hi — 

'  Unless  by  aicpc/idvdav  we  are  to  understand  boughs  of  myrtle-^-which 
would  be  scarcely  admissible — ^it  is  difficult  to  say  what  the  writer  meant 
by  that  word. 

^  Jacobs  correctly  refers  the  "  Milesian  giant  '*  to  Nicophon  himself. 

Edwards's  selection.  201 


CL.    THE  SAME. 

Who  hath  bound  your  two  hands  to  a  column  with  ' 
bands  not  to  be  escaped  from  ?  Who  hath  (put  out)  fire 
by  fire,  and  oyercome  craft  by  craft  ?  Do  not  thou,  silly 
one,  let  fall  a  tear  down  thy  sweet  face.     For  thou  art 
delighted  with  the  tears  of  young  persons.* 


Some  say  that  your  nurse.  Homer,  was  Colophon; 
others, the  beautiful  Smyrna;  others,  Chios ;  others,  los ; 
and  others  have  bawled  out  for  Salamis  with  its  happy 
allotments ;  *  others  again  for  Thessaly,  the  mother  of 
the  LapithsB.  And  some  have  shouted  for  one  land,  and 
some  for  another.  But  if  I  must  speak  unhesitatingly 
the  knowing  oracles  of  Phcebus,  the  great  heaven  is  your 
country,  and  you  were  not  from  a  mortal  parent,  but  from 
Calliop^  your  mother. 

From  Coloplion  some  deem  thee  sprung  ; 

From  Smyrna  some,  and  some  from  Chios ; 
These  noble  Salamis  have  smig, 

While  those  proclaim  thee  bo^^  in  los  ; 

And  others  cry  up  Thessaly, 

The  mother  of  the  Lapithae. 

Thus  each  to  Homer  has  assigned 

The  birth-place  just  which  suits  his  mind. 
But  if  I  read  the  volume  right, 

By  Phcebus  to  his  followers  given, 
I'd  say — They  're  all  mistaken  quite. 

And  that  his  real  country  's  heaven  ; 

While  for  his  mother,  she  can  be 

No  other  than  Calliope.  J.  H.  M. 

As  much  as  the  trumpet  sounds  above  the  flute,  made 

^  From  this  expression  Jacobs  infers  that  the  Epigram  was  written 
upon  a  Cupid  in  bonds. 

'  Why  Salamis  should  be  called  cvcXf/poc  eyen  Jacobs  has  failed  to 


of  the  bones  of  fawns,  so  much  does  your  harp  sound 
above  all.  Nor  in  vain  has  the  brown  swarm  (of  bees) 
formed  their  honey,  bound  with  wax,  around  your  tender 
lips,  O  Pindar.  The  horned  god  of  Maenalus  is  the  wit- 
ness, by  singing  your  hymn  (upon  him)  and  forgetting 
the  shepherd's  reeds. 

As  the  loud  trumpet  to  the  goat-herd's  pipe, 

So  sounds  thy  lyre,  all  other  sounds  surpassing ; 
Since  round  thy  lips,  in  infant  fulness  ripe, 

Swarm'd  honey-bees,  their  golden  stores  amassing. 
Thine,  Pindar,  be  the  palm  by  him  decreed, 

Who  holds  on  Meenalus  his  royal  sitting ; 
Who  for  thy  love  forsook  his  simple  reed, 

And  hymns  thy  lays  in  strains  a  god  befitting. 

J.  H.  M. 

As  the  voice  of  the  jubilant  trumpet's  swell 

Surpasses  the  goatherd's  flute, 
So,  Pindar,  wherever  thou  strik'st  the  loud  shell, 

Overpower'd,  all  others  are  mute. 
'Twas  for  this  on  thy  soft  lips  the  bees  in  a  throng 

Honied  labours  are  said  to  have  plied  ; 
And  Maenalian  Pan,  for  the  charm  of  thy  song. 

Laid  his  pastoral  ditty  aside.  H.  W. 


Where,  Dorian  Corinth,  is  thy  beauty  (once)  gazed  on  ? 
Where  the  crests  of  thy  towers  ?  Where  thy  former  pos- 
sessions ?  Where  the  temples  of  the  blessed  (gods)  ?  Where 
the  (private)  dwellings  ?  Where  the  wives  of  the  de- 
scendants of  Sisyphus,  and  the  former  myriad  of  people  ? 
Not  even  a  vestige,  thou  very  hapless  city,  is  left  of  thee. 
War  hath  seized  upon  and  eaten  up  all.  We  the 
Nereids,  daughters  of  Ocean,  alone  undestroyed  ^remain 
Halcyons  of  your  sorrows.* 

*— *  This  is  scarcely  intelligible.  Perhaps  the  poet  wrote,  'QictavXvai 
li&fc^voi  aStv  dx'^*»v  nvrjuKOiuv  oKkvoviq —  i.  e.  "we  the  daughters  of 
Ocean,  like  Alcyons,  remember  with  tears  your  sorrows." 


Where  has  thy  grandeur,  Corinth,  shrunk  from  sight  ? 

Thy  ancient  towers,  and  thy  rampart's  height  ? 

Thy  godlike  palaces  and  fanes  ?  Oh  !  where 

Thy  mighty  myriads  and  majestic  fair  ? 

Relentless  war  has  pour'd  around  the  wall, 

And  hardly  spared  the  traces  of  thy  falL 

We,  Nymphs  of  Ocean,  deathless  yet  remain. 

And  sad  and  silent  sorrow  near  thy  plain.  Bl. 

Where  are  thy  splendours,  Dorian  Corinth  ?  where 
T^iy  crested  turrets  ?  thy  ancestral  goods  ? 

The  temples  of  the  blest  ?  the  dwellings  of  the  fair  ? 
The  high-born  dames  ?  the  myriad  multitudes  ? 

There 's  not  a  trace  of  thee,  sad  doom'd  one,  left ; 

By  rav'ning  war  at  once  of  all  bereft. 

We,  the  sad  Nereids,  offspring  of  the  surge. 

Alone  are  spared,  to  chaunt  the  Halcyon  dirge. 

H.  W. 

This  is  a  small  dwelling — since  I  am  located  near  the 
dark  wave,  the  mistress  of  the  moistened  shore — ^but  dear 
to  me ;  for  I  rejoice  at  the  ocean  widely  fearing,  and 
sailors  being  saved  through  me.  Propitiate  Venus ;  and 
I  will  breadie  favourably  upon  you,  either  in  love-mat- 
ters, or  on  the  wide-gaping  sea. 

Small  is  this  dome,  where  o'er  the  billowy  main. 
Sole  empress  of  the  sea-beat  shore,  I  reign, 
Yet  dear  ;  for  much  I  love  the  roaring  sea, 
And  much  the  shipwreck'd  seaman  saved  by  me. 
Worship  thou  Venus.     Her  propitious  gales. 
Lover  or  mariner,  shall  fOl  thy  sails. 

Fr.  WRANGHAlf. 

Simple  this  shrine,  where  by  the  dark-white  wave 

I  sit  the  mistress  of  a  briny  shore. 
Simple,  but  loved ;  for  I  delight  to  save 

The  sailor,  and  to  hear  the  billows  roar. 
Propitiate  Venus ;  I  will  prove  to  thee 
A  friend,  when  toss'd  by  love,  or  on  the  clear  blue  sea. 




Thee,  O  swallow,  the  mother  of  young  ones  lately 
bom — thee,  just  now  warming  thy  oflfepring  under  thy 
wing,  did  a  serpent  with  many  folds,  after  having  en- 
tered within  the  nest  where  nurslings  are  tended,  de- 
prive of  what  had  been  thy  labour  pains  ;  and  when  it 
came  rolled  up^  to  destroy  thee  too,  while  lamenting,  it 
fell  into  the  violent  breath  of  a  fire  from  a  hearth.  Thus 
did  the  evil-doer  die.  See  how  Vulcan,  as  a  protector, 
saved  the  race,^  that  came  from  his  son  Erichthonius. 


Lampon,  the  hunting  dog  of  Midas,  did  thirst  destroy, 
although  it  had  laboured  much  for  its  life.  For  with  its 
feet  it  had  duff  up  the  moist  ground ;  but  the  sluggish 
water  did  not  nasten  from  a  blind  fountain;  and  it  fell 
giving  up  the  task.  The  water  bubbled  up,  however. 
Surely  the  Nymphs  brought  upon  Lampon  their  anger 
for  the  fawns  that  had  been  killed. 


I  am  lying  down.  Tread  with  thy  heel  upon  my 
neck,  thou  savage  deity.  I  know  thee,  by  the  gods,  as 
being  difficult  to  bear.  I  know  too  thy  arrows  of  fire. 
But  if  thou  hurlest  fire-brands  against  my  heart,  thou 
wilt  not  burn  it  now.     It  is  all  a  cinder. 

Ay,  tread  on  my  neck,  tyrant  Cupid.     I  swear, 
Though  so  little,  your  weight  is  no  trifle  to  bear. 
But  I  laugh  at  your  darts,  tipp'd  with  flaming  desire ; 
Since  my  heart,  burnt  to  ashes,  is  proof  against  fire. 

B.  Kebx. 

Why  is  it  strange,  if  Love,  the  man-destroyer,  shoots 

*  Such  might  perhaps  he  the  meaning  of  aOpooc.  But  onfe  would  pre- 
fer av  fiopbe —  for  0  and  P  are  sometimes  confounded  in  MSS. 

'  Progn6  was  the  daughter  of  Pandion,  whose  grandfather,  Erichtho- 
nius, was  the  son  of  Neptune. 


his  fire-breathing  arrows,  and  laughs  bitterly  with  his 
saucy  eyes.  Does  not  his  mother  love  Mars?  and  is 
she  not  the  wife  of  Vulcan,  and  thus  common  to  fire  and 
swords  ?  Does  not  the  Sea,  the  mother  of  his  mother, 
roar  roughly  under  the  lashings  of  the  winds  ?  And  no 
one  is  his  father,  and  he  is  the  father  of  no  one.  Hence 
he  possesses  the  fire  of  Vulcan,  and  cherishes  a,nger 
equal  to  the  waves,  and  (has)  the  blood-stained  weapons 
of  Mars. 

No  wonder  Love,  the  ravisher  of  hearts, 

For  slaughter  raging,  hurls  fire-breathing  darts ; 

With  bitter  scorn  envenoms  every  woun^ 

And  laughs  at  every  death  he  scatters  round. 

For  Mars,  the  homicide,  his  mother  vows 

A  lawless  fiame,  while  Vulcan  is  her  spouse. 

Common  to  fire  and  sword,  the  daughter  she 

Of  the  wild,  boisterous,  tempest-scourged  Sea. 

But  who  or  whence  his  sire,  can  no  man  trace. 

No* wonder  then,  since  such  is  Cupid's  race, 

His  arrows  Mars,  hot  Vulcan's  forge  supplied 

His  fire,  his  fury  the  remorseless  tide.         J.  H.  M. 


Terrible  is  Love,  terrible.  But  what  avails  it,  if  I 
should  say,  again  and  again,  mourning  often,  terrible  is 
Love  ?  For  surely  the  boy  laughs  at  this,  and  is  pleased, 
when  often  ill-treated ;  and  is  nourished,  should  I  speak 
abuse.  And  it  is  a  wonder  to  me,  how  you,  Venus,  who 
appeared  through  a  blue  wave,  produced  out  of  a  moist 
substance,  fire. 

Mighty  is  Love ;  most  mighty ;  once  again 
I  cry,  most  mighty,  writhing  with  my  pain. 
And  deeply  groaning ;  who,  for  mischief  bom. 
Mocks  at  our  woes,  and  laughs  our  wrongs  to  scorn. 
The  cold  blue  wave,  from  which  thy  mother  came, 
Proud  boy,  should  quench,  not  feed,  that  cruel  Hame. 

J.  H.  M. 


Cruel  is  Love ;  but  where 's  the  use, 

Still,  "  Love  is  cruel,"  thus  to  say  ? 
The  urchin  laughs  ;  nay,  on  abuse 
•    He  thrives,  revile  him  as  you  may. 
Venus,  thou  daughter  of  the  sea, 
Oh !  how  can  fire  thus  spring  from  thee  ?      G.  S. 


By  Venus,  I  will  burn  all  things  of  yours.  Love,  by  firing 
them,  both  the  bow  and  quiver  that  holds  the  Scythian 
arrows.  Yes,  I  will  burn  them.  Why  do  you  laugh  in 
a  siUy  manner,  and  turn  up  your  lip,  grinning  with  a 
Satyr-like  look?  Perhaps  you  will  have  a  Sardonic^ 
laugh.  For  surely  I  will  cut  oflF  your  quick  wings,  the 
guides  of  desires,  and  I  will  rivet  a  fetter,  bound  with 
brass,  around  your  feet.  And  yet  I  shall  have  a  Cad- 
mean  victory,^  if  I  join  you  as  a  near-dweUer  to  my  soul, 
a  lynx  near  goat-folds.^  But  come  thou,  hard  to  be 
conquered,  and  take  your  light  sandals  v  and  stretch  thy 
rapid  wings  towards  others. 

Love,  by  the  author  of  your  race. 

Of  all  your  sweetest  joys  the  giver, 
I  vow  to  burn,  before  your  face, 

Your  arrows,  bow,  and  Scythian  quiver. 
Yes,  though  you  point  your  saucy  cldn. 

And  screw  your  nostrils  like  a  Satyr, 
And  show  your  teeth,  and  pout,  and  grin, 

I'll  burn  them,  boy,  for  all  your  clatter. 
I'U  clip  your  wings,  although  they  be 

Heralds  of  joy;  your  legs  I'll  bind 
With  brazen  bolts ;  you  shan't  get  free. 

Alas !  I  have  but  caught  the  ^^ind. 

*  The  Sardonic  laugh  would  be  best  paraphrased  in  English,  by  "  a 
laugh  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  mouth." 

2  By  a  Cadmean  victory,  was  meant  one  equally  fatal  to  both  com- 

*  With  this  proverb  Jacobs  compares  "ovem  lupo  committere,**  in 

EDWiJEa>s's  SELECTION.  207 

Ob  I  what  had  I  with  Love  to  do, 
A  wolf  among  the  sheep-folds  roaming  ? 

There,  take  your  wings,  put  on  your  shoe. 
And  tell  your  playmates  you  are  coming.    J.  H.  M. 


Let  the  die  be  cast.  Light  (a  torch)  ;^  I  will  so,  be- 
hold, with  boldness.  What  thought  hast  thou,  O  man, 
heavy  with  wine  ?  I  will  revel,  I  will  revel.  Whither, 
O  soul !  are  you  turning  yourself?  What  has  reasoning 
to  do  with  Love  ?  Light  quickly.  Where  is  the  former 
study  of  reason  ?  Let  the  great  labour  of  wisdom  be  cast 
aside.  This  one  thing  only  do  I  know,  that  Love  has 
brought  down  even  the  proud  bearing  of  Jove.  • 

The  die  is  cast.    Boy,  light  the  torch.    I  go.    Away,  away. 

Untimely  fears.     Thou  drunken  fool,  what  art  thou  think- 
ing? stay. 

I  go  to  mix  with  Comus'  band.  With  Comus'  band  ?  Beware. 

Intruding  Reason,  hence !  your  counsels  Love  would  gladly 

Boy,  light  the  torch ;  be  quick.     Oh !  where  has  godlike 
Reason  fled  ? 

And  Wisdom,  where  ?  They  prostrate  lie  among  the  mighty 

But  this  I  know,  the  same  decree  binds  e'en  the  gods  above ; 

The  strength  of  Jove  himself  has  bent  before  all-conquering 
Love.  J.  H.  M. 


By  thee,  O  Bacchus,  will  I  bear  with  thy  boldness. 
Lead.  Commence  the  revels.  A  god  holds  the  reins 
of  a  mortal  heart.  Bom  thyself  in  fire,  thou  lovest  the 
fire  which  is  in  love ;  and  having  again  bound  me,  thou 

*  The  party,  who  is  here  merely  holding  a  conversation  with  himself, 
is  supposed  by  Jacobs  to  be  talking  with  his  slave.  But  a  slave  would 
hardly  have  dared  to  call  his  master  Olvopapsg,  For  similar  instances  of 
persons  talking  with  themselves,  see  Soph.  Antig.  227,  and  Shakspeare, 
Merchant  of  Venice,  Act  ii.  Sc.  2.  In  the  words  ^tttc,  fropevoofiai,  rjviSe, 
rSXfiaf  where  d'Trre  wants  its  object,  and  ijviSf  is  perfectly  useless,  and 
ToKfia  without  sense  or  syntax,  lies  hid  something  it  would  not  be  diffi- 
cult perhaps  to  discover. 


leadest  me  thy  suppliant.  Surely  thou  art  by  nature  a 
traitor,  and  not  to  be  trusted ;  and  telling  me  to  conceal 
thy  mysteries,  thou  art  now  -willing  to  disclose  mine. 

Bacchus,  I  yield  me  to  thy  sway ; 

Master  of  revels,  lead  the  way. 

Conqueror  of  India's  burning  plain, 

My  heart  obeys  thy  chariot  rein. 

In  flames  conceived,  thou  sure  wilt  prove 

Indulgent  to  the  fire  of  love  ; 

Nor  count  me  rebel,  if  I  own 

Allegiance  to  a  double  throne. 

Alas !  alas !  that  power  so  high 

Should  stoop  to  treacherous  perfidy ! 

The  mysteries  of  thy  hallow'd  shrine 

I  ne'er  profaned.     Why  publish  mine  ?    J.  H.  M. 

Give  this  message,  Dorcas ;  look  you,  Dorcas,  tell  her 
again,  a  second  and  a  third  time,  all.  Kun.  Delay  not. 
Fly.  Stop  a  little,  Dorcas ;  a  little.  Whither,  Dorcas, 
are  you  hastening,  before  you  have  learnt  all  ?  Add  to 
what  I  have  said  just  now — I  am  silly  still  more — say 
nothing  wholly — but  that — say  all.  Do  not  spare  your- 
self from  saying  all  this.  And  yet,  why  do  I  send 
you,  Dorcas  ?  when,  see,  I  am  going  myself  with  you 

Haste  thee,  Dorcas !  haste,  and  bear 

This  message  to  thy  lady  fair ; 

And  say  besides — ^nay,  pray,  begone, 

Tell,  tell  her  all — run,  Dorcas,  run. 

Whither  so  fast  ?  a  moment  stay. 

Don't  run  with  half  your  tale  away ; 

I've  more  to  teU.     Alas  !  I  rave ; 

I  know  not  what  to  do  or  have. 

Go,  tell  her  all,  whate'er  you  know, 

Whate'er  you  think ;  go,  Dorcas,  go. 

But  why  a  message  send  before, 

When  we  're  together  at  the  door  ?        J.  H.  M. 

'  In  lieu 
one  would 

I  of  'Trpodyuvy  where  irpo  could  hardly  be  thus  united  to  <rhf, 
prefer  wda  dyutv. 



Dorcas,  say  to  Lycsenis,  "  See,  how  you  have  been 
caught  loving,  as  if  you  were  with  a  coat  of  plaster.^ 
Time  does  not  conceal  a  feigned  love." 


'Tis  a  sweet  strain,  by  Pan  of  Arcady, 

Which  warbles  from  thy  lyre  with  thrilling  sound, 
Zenophile ;  oh !  how  can  I  be  free  ? 

Since  Loves  on  every  side  enclose  me  round, 
Forbidding  me  to  breathe  a  single  hour 

In  peace,  since  first  thy  beauty,  then  thy  lyre. 
Thy  face,  and  then — oh !  words  of  feeble  power — 

Thy  perfect  all  has  set  me  all  on  fire.  Hay. 


The  three  Graces  ^(have  given)  a  triple  crown  to 
my  mistress*  Zenophila,  the  symbols  of  a  three-fold 
beauty.  One  has  placed  upon  her  Desire,  on  account 
of  her  colour ;  another.  Love  on  her  form  ;  and  another, 
on  her  discourse  sweet-spoken  words.  Triply  fortunate 
is  she,  whose  bed  Venus  has  furnished;  *  language.  Per- 
suasion ;  and  sweet  beauty.  Love. 

The  Sister-Graces  for  my  fair 

A  triple  garland  wove. 
When  with  each  other  they  to  make 

A  perfect  mistress  strove. 
A  tint,  to  mock  the  rose's  bloom ; 

A  form,  like  young  Desire  ; 
A  voice,  whose  melody  outbreathes 

The  sweetness  of  the  lyre. 

'  Jacobs  vainly  endeayours  to  defend  iTrticriyra,  instead  of  which 
Bninck  properly  proposed  iTrtrijicra,  referring  most  opportunely  to  Cicero, 
Epist.  Attic,  vii.  1. 

* — *  Instead  of  trrtipdviofta  trvvtvvq,^  where  Jacobs  denies  that  ovvtvvoQ 
can  be  applied  to  a  female,  he  would  read  <rri(j>dviafi*  kwkvrifrav,  **  knitted 
a  crown,"  and  thus  supply  the  verb  wanting  at  present. 

•  In  lieu  of  iivXiaev,  Jacobs  suggests  wTracrev,  "  gave — **  One  would 
prefer  ivXaatVf  "  moulded — ** 


Thrice-happy  fair !  whom  Venus  arm'd 

With  jo/s  ecstatic  power, 
Persuasion  with  soft  eloquence. 

And  Love  with  beauty's  flower.      J.  H.  M. 


I  make  a  proclamation  against  Love,  the  wild  boy. 
For  now,  just  now,  he  went  away  early  in  the  morning, 
flying  from  his  bed.  The  boy  is,  with  sweet  tears,  ever 
talking,  quick,  fearless,  laughing  slyly,  with  wings  on. 
his  back,  (and)  bearing  a  quiver.  But  from  what  father 
he  is,  I  cannot  tell.  For  neither  the  Air,  nor  Earth,  nor 
Sea,  say  that  they  begat  the  daring  (urchin).  For  he  is 
hated  m  every  way  by  all.  But  look  to  him,  lest  some- 
how he  place  other  ^  nets  upon  your  souls.  And  yet, 
behold,  he  is  about  his  lair.  Thou  hast  not  escaped  me, 
archer,  concealed  in  the  eyes  of  Zenophila. 

Love,  I  proclaim,  the  vagrant  child, 

Who,  even  now,  at  dawn  of  day, 

Stole  from  his  bed  and  flew  away. 
He 's  wont  to  weep,  as  though  he  smiled. 
For  ever  prattling,  swift,  and  daring ; 

Laughs  with  wide  mouth  and  wrinkled  nose ; 
Wing'd  on  the  back,  and  always  bearing 

A  quiver,  rattling  as  he  goes. 
Unknown  the  author  of  his  birth ; 

For  Air,  'tis  certain,  ne'er  begot 
The  saucy  boy ;  and  as  for  Earth 

And  Sea,  both  swear  they  own  him  not. 
To  all  and  every  where  a  foe. 

But  you  must  look,  and  keep  good  watch. 
Lest  he  should  still  around  him  throw 

Fresh  nets,  unwary  souls  to  catch. 
Stay,  while  I  yet  am  speaking,  lo  ! 

There,  there  he  sits,  like  one  forbidden ; 
And  did  you  hope  to  'scape  me  so — 

In  Lesbia's  eyes,  you  truant,  hidden.        J.  H.  M, 

*  In  lieu  of  dWa,  one  would  have  expected  oifXd,  **  destructive — '* 

Edwards's  selection.  211 

Oyez.  Take  notice,  Love,  the  runaway, 
Fled  from  his  bed-chamber  at  break  of  day. 
The  boy  is  an  adept  at  wheedling,  crying ; 
Talks  much,  is  swift  of  foot)  and  given  to  lying ; 
Audacious,  cunning,  and  with  m^ce  fraught. 
He  laughs  at  mischief  his  own  wiles  have  wrought. 
With  wings  for  flight  equipped ;  and  for  attack, 
With  darts,  he  bears  a  quiver  on  his  back. 
'  Who  is  his  father,  I  could  ne'er  discover ; 
Earth,  Air,  and  Sea,  alike  disown  the  rover. 
He 's  every  body's  foe.     Ah,  maids,  beware ; 
Youths,  too,  take  heed.     For  you  he  spreads  the  snare. 
But  look,  can  I  be  wrong  ?  No.     There  I  spy 
The  truant  archer,  hid  in  Lesbia's  eye.  B.  Keen. 


Now  the  white  violet  is  in  bloom ;  in  bloom  too  the 
narcissus;  and  in  bloom  the  lily  that  frequents  the  hills. 
And  now  Zenophila,  loved  by  friends,  amongst  flowers 
a  flower  in  its  prime,  is  in  bloom,  the  sweet  rose  of 
Persuasion.  Ye  meadows>  why  do  ye  joyous  laugh  for 
your  herbage?  For  the  maiden  is  better  than  sweet- 
breathing  garlands. 

Now  the  white  snowdrop  decks  the  mead  ; 

The  dew-besprent  narcissus  blows ; 
And  on  the  flowery  mountain's  head 

The  wildly  scatter'd  lily  grows. 
Each  loveliest  child  of  summer  throws 

Its  fragrance  to  the  sunny  hour ; 
But  Lesbia's  opening  lips  disclose 

Diyine  Persuasion's  fairer  flower. 
Meadows,  why  do  ye  smile  in  vain, 

In  robe  of  green  and  garlands  gay  ? 
When  Lesbia  moves  along  the  plain. 

She  wears  a  sweeter  charm  than  they.     J.  H.  M. 

See,  the  snow-flake  blossoms  gaily ; 

Blossoms  too  narcissus  dank ; 
Blossom  all  the  lilies  daily, 

Strajdng  over  mountain-bank, 
p  2 


Nay,  but  now,  the  flower  of  flowers, 

Fair  Zenophile,  is  seen ; 
Sweetest  rose-bud  from  the  bowers 

Of  the  love-bewitching  queen. 
Meadows,  vain  your  sunny  smiles 

On  those  tresses  bright  to  wear ; 
For  the  maid  hath  mightier  wiles 
Than  the  wreaths  that  scent  the  air. 

G.  F.  D.  T. 
The  snowdrop  peeps  from  every  glade ; 

The  gay  narcissus  proudly  glows  ; 
The  lily  decks  the  mountain  shade. 

Where  blooms  my  fair — a  blushing  rose. 
Ye  meads,  why  vainly  thus  display 

The  buds  that  grace  your  vernal  hour  ? 
For  see  ye  not  my  Zoe  stray 

Amidst  your  sweets,  a  sweeter  flower.     Shepherd. 

Now  the  white  violets  bloom,  now  bloom  the  flowers. 

The  hyacinths  that  delight  in  dewy  showers ; 

Now  bloom  hill-loving  lilies,  and  the  rose. 

Love's  and  Persuasion's  flower,  in  blushing  sweetness  glows. 

Zenophile,  thou  heart  enslaver,  say. 

Why  laugh  the  meads  in  all  that  vain  array 

Of  beauty  ?  since  my  girl  is  lovelier  far. 

Than  sweetly-breathing  garlands  ever  are.  Hay. 


The  goblet  is  pleasant  and  glad.  It  says  it  touches 
the  sweetly-prattling  mouth  of  Zenophila,  oear  to  Love. 
Happy  is  it.  I  wish  she  would  place  her  lips  to  my  lips,  and 
without  drawing  breath  drink  out  the  soul  that  is  in  me. 

Blest  is  the  goblet,'  oh !  how  blest^ 

Which  HeHodora's  lips  have  prest. 

Oh !  might  thy  lips  but  meet  with  mine. 

My  soul  should  melt  away  in  thine.       J.  H.  M. 


Let  him  be  sold,  even  while  slumbering  on  his  mo- 
ther's breast.     Let  him  be  sold.     Why  should  I  bring 

Edwards's  selection.  213 

up  this  bold  thing  ?  For  he  is  naturally  with  a  sly  leer, 
and  wings  under  him ;  and  he  scratches  the  surface  (of 
the  skin)  with  his  nails,  and  in  the  midst  of  weeping  fre- 
quently laughs ;  and  still  in  addition  he  is  not  to  be 
turned  aside;  ever  prattling;  keen-looking,  wild,  and 
not  tamed  even  by  his  dear  mother ;  (and)  is  in  every 
respect  a  prodigy.  He  shall  therefore  be  sold.  If  any 
trader,  sailing  away,  wishes  to  buy  the  boy,  let  him 
come  forward.  And  yet,  see,  he  is  supplicating,  bathed 
in  tears.  I  will  not  sell  you.  Be  of  good  cheer*  Remain 
here  a  fellow-boarder  with  Zenophiia. 

Sell  him,  whilst  on  his  mother's  breast 

He  gently  sinks  in  placid  rest. 

Sell  him.     Why  should  I  keep  a  child 

So  bold,  so  graceless,  and  so  wild  ? 

How  broad  his  nose  I  how  keen  his  eyes  ! 

And  now  he  laughs,  and  now  he  cries  ; 

With  fluttering  wings  and  active  nails 

He  every  mortal  wight  assails. 

The  prattling  rogue 's  so  bent  on  riot. 

His  mother  cannot  keep  him  quiet 

Sell  him.     Who  11  buy  the  infant  slave, 

And  bear  him  cross  the  wintry  wave  ? 

But,  see,  he  prays  with  flowing  tears. 

I  will  not  sell  thee.    Calm  thy  fears. 

With  me,  dear  boy,  thou  still  shalt  stay, 

And  with  thy  lovely  mistress  play.         Shepherd. 


Within  my  heart  has  Love  himself  moulded  the 
sweedy-prattling  Heliodora,  a  soul  (within)  a  soul. 


Four  into  (the  cup)  and  speak  again  and  again  of 
Heliodora;  speak;  mingle  her  sweet  name  with  un- 
mixed (wine) ;  and  place  around  me,  wetted  with  oint- 
ments, and  being  (a  reveller)  yesterday,  a  garland  in 
remembrance  of  her.     See,  the  rose,  loved  by  lovers. 


weeps,  because  it  beholds  her  elsewhere  and  not  in  my 

Fill  high  the  goblet ;  fill  it  up  ; 

With  Lesbia'9  name  divine 
Thrice  utter'd  crown  the  sparkling  cup, 

And  sweeten  all  the  wine. 
Tie  round  my  brows  the  rosy  wreath, 

Which  yesterday  we  wove 
With  flowers  that  yet  of  odours  breathe, 

In  memory  of  my  love. 
See  how  yon  rose  in  tears  is  drest. 

Her  lovely  form  to  see 
No  longer  folded  on  my  breast. 

As  it  was  wont  to  be.  J.  H.  M. 

Fill—give  the  health — once  more,  once  more- 
Mix  Heliodora's  name  with  wine  ; 

The  ruby  juice  uutemper'd  pour. 

And  round  my  brow  the  garland  twine  ; 

Memorial  of  the  gift  it  blooms 
With  flowers  that  yesterday  o'ertopp'd  their  stems ; 

But  now,  dipp'd  moist  in  new  perfumes. 
Shed  odour  drops  from  their  anointed  gems. 

Lo  !  the  rose  weeps,  the  lover-loving  flower, 

To  see  the  nymph  away,  who  shared  my  bower. 


clxxm.  westminster,  1  book,  86  ep. 


I  will  twine  the  white  violet ;  I  will  twine  the  tender 
narcissus  with  myrtles ;  I  will  twine  also  the  laughing 
lilies.  I  will  twine  too  the  sweet  crozus ;  and  I  wiu 
twine,  in  addition,  the  purple  hyacinth;  and  I  will 
twine  the  roses,  loved  by  lovers;  in  order  that  on 
the  temples  of  Heliodora  vdth  perfumed  locks  a  gar- 
land may  throw  flowers  on  her  hair  with  beautiful 

Edwards's  selection.  215 

1 11  wreathe  white  violets  ;  with  the  myrtle  shade 

Bind  soft  narcissus  ;  and  amidst  them  braid 

The  laughing  lily  ;  with  whose  virgin  hue 

Shall  blend  bright  crocus,  and  the  hyacinth  blue. 

There  many  a  rose  shall  interwoven  shed 

Its  blushing  grace  on  Heliodora's  head, 

And  add  fresh  fragrance,  amorously  entwining 

Her  cluster'd  locks,  with  spicy  ointments  shining.  J.  H.  M. 

Ill  twine  white  violets,  and  the  myrtle  green ; 

Narcissus  will  I  twine,  and  lilies  sheen ; 

1 11  twine  sweet  crocus,  and  the  hyacinth  blue ; 

And  last  111  twine  the  rose,  love's  token  true ; 

That  all  may  form  a  wreath  of  beauty,  meet 

To  deck  my  Heliodora's  tresses  sweet.  G.  S. 

By  Love,  I  would  rather  hear  the  voice  of  Heliodora 
close  to  my  ears,  than  the  harp  of  the  son  of  Latona. 


Dear  Jenny  Lind  !  Fd  rather  hear  you  sirig, 
Than  Paganini  fiddle  "  on  one  string," 

I  asserted  once  in  stories,^  that  the  sweet  prattling  He- 
liodora conquered  the  Graces  themselves  by  her  graces. 
The  sweetly  prattling  Heliodore,  'tis  true. 
Does  e'en  the  Graces  by  her  grace  subdue.      G.  B. 


O  bee,  living  amongst  flowers,  why  touch  the  skin  of 
Heliodora,  and  leave  the  buds  just  expanded  in  the 
spring  ?  Surely  you  point  out  that  it  is  both  sweet,  and 
possesses  ever  the  bitter  sting  of  love,  to  be  with  diffi- 
culty endured  by  the  heart.  Yes,  I  think,  you  have  said 
so.  Go  then,  loved  by  lovers,  with  your  foot  back 
again.     We  have  known  of  old  your  tidings. 

Wandering  bee,  who  lov'st  to  dwell 

In  the  vernal  rose-bud's  cell, 

1  This  seems  scarcely  intelligible.  Hence  for  iv  fivBoic  perhaps  the 
poet  wrote  oit  fisOwaic— ;"  not  drunk  ;**  i.  e.  in  sober  earnest. 


Wherefore  leave  thj  pla^e  of  rest> 

To  light  on  Heliodora's  breast  ? 

Is  it  thus  you  mean  to  show, 

When  flies  the  shaft  from  Cupid's  bow, 

What  a  sweet  and  bitter  smart 

It  leaves  within  the  wounded  heart  ? 

Yes,  thou  friend  to  lovers,  yes, 

I  thy  meaning  well  can  guess  : 

'Tis  a  truth  too  soon  we  learn  ; 

Go  ;  with  thy  lesson  home  return.         J.  H,  AL 

Little  bee,  on  blossoms  faring, 

Why  neglect  the  spring  to  seek  ? 
Why  to  settle  art  thou  dsuing 

On  my  HeHodora's  cheek  ? 
Is  it,  thou  art  me  assuring 

Love  has  something  sweet  to  bring. 
But  withal,  past  heart's  enduring. 

Leaves  a  bitter  in  his  sting. 
Yes,  I  ween,  this  was  your  presage ; 

G^t  thee  hence,  thou  lover's  friend  ; 
Long  ago  I  've  known  your  message  ; 

Hence  begone,  I  cannot  mend.       G.  F.  D.  T. 


Thou  vocal  Tettix,  drunk  with  drops  of  dew,  thou 
^ingest  the  Muse,  that  lives  in  the  country,  and  prattles 
in  the  desert ;  and  sitting  with  thy  serrated  limbs  on  the 
tops  of  petals,  thou  givest  out  the  melody  of  the  lyre 
with  thy  dusky  skin.  Come  then,  friend,  and  speak 
some  new  playful  thing  to  the  Wood-Nymphs,  and 
chirrup  a  strain  responsive  to  Pan,  in  order  that,  after 
flying  from  Love,  I  may  find  mid-day  slumber  here, 
reclining  under  a  shady  plane-tree. 

Oh !  shrill-voiced  insect,  that  with  dew-drops  sweet 
Inebriate,  dost  in  desert  woodland  sing, 

Perch'd  on  the  spray-top  with  indented  feet, 
Thy  dusky  body's  echoings,  harp-like,  ring. 

Come,  dear  Cicada,  chirp  to  all  the  grove. 

The  Nymphs  and  Pan,  a  new  responsive  strain, 

Edwards's  selection.  217 

That  I,  in  noon-day  sleep,  may  steal  from  Love, 
Reclined  beneath  the  dark  o'erspreading  plane. 


Tipsy  with  dew-drops,  througli  the  desert  shrill, 
Noisy  Cicada,  thou  thy  strain  dost  trill ; 
And  from  thy  dusky  sides  with  jagged  feet, 
Perch'd  on  an  air-hung  spray,  draw'st  music  sweet. 
With  some  new  chirrup,  friend,  the  Dryads  cheer, 
Rival  to  Pan's,  some  carol  bid  them  hear ; 
That  'scaped  from  Love,  secure  at  noon-tide  laid, 
I  may  woo  slumber  'neath  the  plane-tree's  shade. 

Fb.  Wrangham. 

Loud-sounding  grasshopper,*tis  thine,  with  dew-drops  drunk, 

The  speaking  solitudes  afar,  with  thy  rural  notes  so  shrill ; 

Thou  sitt'st  on  high,  and  ne'er  thy  feet,  broad,  flat,  and 
saw-like,  tire 

Li  striking  from  thy  dusky  wings  clear  notes,  as  from  a  lyi-e ; 

Come  then,  some  new  and  sportive  song,  to  the  Wood- 
Nymphs  now  essay. 

Thou  loved  one,  while  thy  rival  Pan  gives  back  th' alternate 

That  Love  may  for  a  while  forbear  to  pierce  this  heart  of 

While  I,  in  quest  of  noon-tide  sleep,  in  the  plane-tree's  shade 
recline.  Hat. 

Fill'd  with  the  morning's  roseate  dew,  thy  song 
I  heard  along  the  solitary  hills 
Resounding,  and  the  lonely  crags,  far  off 
From  haunts  of  men.     For  thou  the  leafy  shade 
Lovest,  and  woodland  solitudes ;  there  best 
Thy  lyre  attuning,  and  with  joyous  feet 
Striking  thy  wings  sonorous.     For  my  sake 
Sing  to  the  Nymphs,  who  haunt  the  forest  glades ; 
Sweet  insect-warbler,  sing  another  song. 
Pan's  own  pipe  rivalling ;  and  sing  for  me, 
That,  flying  Love  importunate,  in  peace 
My  noon-day  slumbers  I  may  take,  stretch'd  out 


In  some  cool  grot,  or  where  the  streamlet  winds 
Beneath  yon  Platane's  broad  incmnbent  shade. 

John  Mitford. 

O  thou  cricket,  that  cheatest  me  of  my  regrets,  the 
soother  of  slumber  !  O  thou  cricket,  that  art  the  Muse 
of  the  ploughed  fields,  and  art  with  shrill  wings  the 
sfelf-formed  nnitation  of  the  lyre,  chirrup  me  something 
pleasant,  while  beating  your  vocal  wings  with  your 
feet.  How  I  wish  you  would,  O  cricket,  release  me 
from  the  troubles  of  much  sleepless  care,  weaving  the 
jthread  of  a  voice,  that  causes  Love  to  wander  away. 
And  I  will  give  you  for  morning-gifts  leek  ever  bloom- 
ing, and  drops  of  dew  cut  up  for  thy  mouth. 

Thou  locust,  soother  of  my  love,  whose  music  slumber 

brings — 
Thou  locust,  minstrel  of  the  fields,  endowed  with  shrilly 

wings — 
Thou  artless  mimic  of  the  Ijrre,  some  song  of  beauty  sing, 
By  striking  with  thy  pliant  feet  each  music-speaking  wing. 
Thou  locust,  trill  me  from  thy  chords  a  love-releasing  strain. 
That  thus  thou  may'st  remove  my  care,  my  ever  wakeful 

And  111  the  evergreens  to  thee  as  morning  gifts  assign, 
And  dew-drops  split  in  parts  to  fit  that  Httle  mouth  of 

thine.  Hat. 


The  \)uQ.  himself  bellows  as  a  suppliant  at  thy  altar, 
ethereal  Jove,  as  if  about  to  release^ his  soul  from  death. 
Dismiss  then,  son  of  Saturn,  the  ploughing  animal.  For 
thou  wert  thyself,  O  king,  the  sailing  bull  of  Europa. 

The  suppliant-bull,  to  Jove's  high  altar  led. 
Bellows  a  prayer  for  his  devoted  head. 
Spare  him,  Satumius;  this  the  form  you  wore. 
When  fair  Europa  through  the  waves  you  bore. 

J.  H.  M. 
^  So  the  sense  requires  us  to  read,  pv(r6fitvog  for  pv6fuvos. 

Edwards's  selection.  219 

clxxxn.  westminster,  2  book,  2  ep. 

Yes,  yes,  shoot  at  me.  Loves.     I  lie  one  with  many 
(others)  a  mark.     Do  not  foolishly  spare  me.    For  if  ye 
are  victors  over  me,  ye  will  be  archers  of  renown  amongst 
men,  and  lords  of  the  mighty  quiver. 


Being  well  armed,^  I  will  fight  even  against  thee,  nor 
will  I  be  faint-hearted,  although  a  mortal.  Do  thou  then. 
Love,  approach  me  not.  If  thou  layest  hold  of  me,  when 
drunk,  take  me  away,  thy  captive.  But  as  long  as  I 
am  sober,  I  possess  reason^  arrayed  against  thee. 


O  Cecropian  flagon,  pour  forth  the  dew-like  vapour 
of  Bacchus ;  pour  forth ;  (and)  let  the  drinking,  paid 
for  by  joint-shares,  become  like  dew,  (But)  let  Zeno, 
the  swan  of  wisdom,  be  silent,  and  the  muse  of  Cleanthes. 
Love,  sweet  and  sour,  is  a  cure  for  us. 


A.  Whence  did  he  come  ?  and  what  the  sculptor^s  name  ? 

B,  Lysippus  ;  and  from  Sicyon  he  came. 
A.  Thy  name  ?  B.  All-potent  Opportunity. 
A,  On  tiptoe  why  ?  B.  Vm  ready  aye  to  flee. 

A,  But  why  that  two-fold  nature,  winged  feet  ? 

B.  Than  heaven's  own  blasts  my  movements  are  more  fleet. 

A.  The  razor  in  thy  right  hand,  tell  me  why  ? 

B.  Sharp  is  its  edge  ;  but  sharper  still  am  I. 

A.  Why  hair  on  front  ?    B,  That  he,  who  meets  me,  may 
Hold  fast,  by  Jove.     A,  Why  bald  behind  ?  now  say. 

B,  When  once  my  winged  feet  have  borne  me  past, 
Man  tries  in  vain  behind  to  hold  me  fast. 

A,  Sculptured  on  whose  account  ?  B,  Thine,  friend ;  and  see, 
My  site's  the  temple's  porch,  that  all  may  learn  of  me. 

^  Instead  of  El/on-Xov  Jacobs  suggests  EvoirXai— He  should  have  read 
"EvoirXog  wv — 


A.  Who  is  the  sculptor,  say,  and  whence  ? 

B,  From  Sicyon.     A,  What  is  he, 
By  name  ?   B.  Lysippus.    A,  Who  art  thou  ? 

^.  I  am  Opportunity. 
A.  Why  is  a  razor  in  thy  hand  ? 

B,  More  keen  my  edge  is  set. 
A.  Why  hast  thou  hair  upon  thy  brow  ? 

B.  To  seize  me  by,  when  met. 
A,  Why  is  thy  step  so  high  and  light  ? 

B,  iBm  running  all  the  day. 
A,  Why  on  each  foot  hast  thou  a  wing  ? 

B,  I  fly  with  the  winds  away. 
A,  Why  is  thy  head,  then,  bald  behind  ? 

B.  Because  men  wish  in  vain. 
When  I  have  run  on  winged  feet, 

To  catch  me  e'er  again. 
A.  Why  did  the  artist  form  thee  so  ? 

B,  To  place  me  in  this  hall. 
That  I  a  lesson  thus  might  give 

To  thee,  friend,  and  to  all.  T.  C. 


Lysippus  has  moulded  the  daring  and  the  whole  form 
of  Alexander.  What  meaning  has  this  brass  here  ?  He 
in  brass  is,  while  looking  up  to  Jupiter,  like  to  a  person 
about  to  say — "  I  place  the  Earth  under  me ;  do  you, 
Jupiter,  keep  Olympus." 

What  power,  Lysippus,  hath  thy  bronze  ! 

The  conqueror's  daring  mien 
And  Alexander's  glorious  self 

Embodied  here  is  seen. 
The  living  metal  seems  to  say. 

With  eyes  uplift  to  Jove — 
Mine  are  the  realms  of  earth  below  ; 

Thine  be  the  realms  *bove.  G.  S. 


Such  '^as  Milo,  when  he  lifted  up  from  the  earth  as 
a  weight  a  four-year-old  heifer,  at  a  feast  sacred  to 


Jove ;  and  carried  on  his  shoulders  the  monstrous  ani- 
mal, as  if  it  were  a  young  lamb,  easily  through  the 
whole  public  meeting.  This  was  a  wonder.  But  he 
performed  a  still  greater  wonder  than  this,  O  stranger, 
when  present  at  the  sacrificial  festival  at  Pisa.  For 
the  buU,  with  which,  not  as  yet  put  under  the  yoke,  he 
had  made  a  procession,  he  cut  up  for  its  flesh,  and  ate  all 
of  it  alone. 


Give  me  a  cup,  made  of  the  clay,  from  which  I  came, 
and  under  which  I  shall  lie  when  dead. 

CXC.   WESTMINSTER,    3   BOOK,    15    EP. 

Spare  the  parent  of  acoms,  good  wood-cutter,  spare  ; 

Let  the  time-honour'd  Fir  feel  the  weight  of  your  stroke, 
The  many-stalk'd  Thorn,  or  Acanthus,  wom-bare. 

Pine,  Arbutus,  Ilex — ^but  touch  not  the  Oak. 
Far  hence  be  your  axe  ;  for  our  grandams  have  sung, 
How  the  Oaks  are  the  mothers,  from  whom  we  all  sprung. 

J.  H.  M. 


Nymphs,  daughters  of  Nereus,  did  ye  on  the  bank 
see  Daphnis,  how  he  washed  off  the  oirt  that  was  on 
him,  like  down?  when  he  leapt  into  your  streams, 
burnt  by  the  dog-star,  slightly  suffused  with  red  as  to 
the  apple-like  swelling  of  his  cheeks.  Tell  me,  was  he 
not  ^  beautiful  ?  or  have  I  (Pan)  ^  become  '  a  goat,  not 
only  in  my  legs,  but  still  more  in  my  heart  ? 


I  fell  in  love  with  Demo  of  a  Paphian  family.  It  is 
no  great  wonder.  And  secondly  with  Demo  of  Samos. 
This  is  no  great  thing.  And  thirdly,  again,  with  Demo 
of  Ionia.     Are  not  all  these  playthings  ?    And  fourthly 

*  The  Greek  is  BlwaTs  /lot, — ^It  was  probably  EiTrare  fi\  ob — 
'  This  is  inserted  to  show  who  is  the  party  speaking. 
'  Schsefer  has  suggested  lytwaBtiv  for  iyvmOriv — 

222  GBEEK  anthology; 

with  Demo  of  Arffolis.  Surely  the  Fates  themselves  have 
named  me  Philo-Demus  (Demo-loving) ;  since  ever  a 
warm  desire  for  a  Demo  possesses  me. 

CXCIII,   ETON  EXTRACTS,   EP.    178. 


Not  yet  is  thy  summer  naked  of  buds,  nor  has 
the  grape,  which  first  shows  forth  the  beauties  of  a 
maiden,  become  dark;  but  already  are  young  Loves 
sharpening  their  rapid  arrows,  Lysidici,  and  a  secret 
fire  is  smouldering.  Let  us  fly,  who  are  ill  in  love, 
while  the  arrow  is  not  yet  on  the  string.  I  am  the  fore- 
teller of  a  great  conflagration  shortly. 

Not  yet  the  blossoms  of  the  spring  decay'd, 
Nor  full  the  swelling  treasures  of  the  vine  ; 

But  the  young  Loves  prepare  their  darts,  sweet  maid. 
And  light  their  fires  upon  thy  virgin  shrine. 

Oh  !  let  us  fly,  while  yet  unstrung  their  bows, 

And  yet  conceal'd  the  future  splendour  glows. 

J.  H.  M. 


Artemidorus    has    given    us    cabbage,    Aristarchus 

fickled  fish,  and  Athenagoras  little  bulbous  roots; 
'hilodemus,  a  small  heart  ;^  Apollophanes,  two  minsB 
worth  of  pork ;  and  there  were  still  three  from  yester- 
day. Eggs,  and  garlands,  and  sandals,^  and  myrrh 
take  from  us,  boy  ;^  I  am  willing  to  come  at  the  tenth  * 


O  Melicerta,  the  daughter  of  Ino,  and  thou,  Leu- 
cothoS  with  blue  eyes,  who  rulest  the  main,  a  deity 
warding  off  evil,  and  ye  choirs  of  Nereids,  and  ye  waves, 

*  "  Of  a  goose,'*  says  Jacobs. 

'  This  is  added,  says  Jacobs,  because  sandals  were  not  worn  at  Rome, 
except  at  suppers  and  wine-parties. 

*  So  Meineke,  by  reading  traX  for  xai — 
^  i.  e.  in  the  eyening. 

Edwards's  selection.  223 

and  thou  Neptune,  and  thou  Thracian  Zephyr,  the  mild- 
est of  winds,  propitiously  carry  me,  while  escaping  over 
the.  wide  wave,  safe  to  the  sweet  land  of  the  Peireeus. 


The  stone  contains  three  immortals.  For  the  head 
marks  correctly  Pan,  with  goat's  horns ;  the  breast  and 
belly,  Hercules ;  Mercury,  with  winged  feet,  has  ob- 
tained by  lot  what  remains  of  the  thighs  and  shins.  Do 
not  any  longer,  stranger,  refuse  to  sacrifice.  For  of  one 
sacrifice  do  we  three  gods  partake. 


There  is  already  the  rose,  and  the  chick-pea  in  its 
prime,  and  the  stalks  of  the  first-cut  cabbage,  Sosylus ; 
and  Hhe  shining  msene,^  and  the  salt-ch6ese  lately  prest, 
and  the  delicate-grown  ^  leaves  of  the  crisp  lettuce.  But 
we  do  not  go  to  the  sea-shore ;  *  nor  are  we,  Sosylus,  as 
ever  formerly,  in  a  spot  that  has  a  look-out.  And  yet 
Antigenes  and  Bacchius  'were  playing  yesterday ;  but 
now  we  are  carrying  them  out  to  bury  to-day. 


To-morrow  to  a  slender  nest-like  hut  does  a  muse- 
loving  fidend  draw  thee,  dearest  Peison,  at  the  ninth 
hour,  when  celebrating  his  twentieth  birthday.  But 
should  you  miss  the  teats  (of  a  sow),*  and  the  quaffing 
of  wine,  produced  at  Chios,  still  will  you  see  very  true 
friends;  still  will  you  hear  strains  more  melliffluous 
than  those  in  the  land  of  the  Phaeacians.*     But  if  you 

' — '  The  Greek  is  fiaivri  JoXayivaa :  where  Scaliger  acutely  suggested 
oiKayivffa :  for  he  knew  that  most  of  the  fish  of  the  Mediteiranean,  when 
taken  first  out  of  the  water,  have  a  brilliant  appearance.  Jacobs  would 
identify  uaivrj  with  /latvtc,  which  was  a  small  fish,  perhaps  not  unlike 
the  English  white-bait. 

*  Instead  of  a0po0v^~for  the  lettuce  could  not  be  said  to  boi  sprung 
from  **  foam" — Meineke  has  suggested  appoijtvij — 

'  To  dine  on  the  sea-shore,  Jacobs  says,  was  an  act  of  luxury.  The 
object  was,  perhaps,  to  be  able  to  cook  the  fish  as  soon  as  it  was  caught. 

*  This,  says  Jacobs,  was  deemed  a  delicacy  at  Rome. 
^  Here  is  an  allusion  to  Homer,  Od,  6.  248. 


will  turn  your  eyes  upon  us,  Peison,  we  wiU  cele- 
brate our  twentieth  (birthday)  rather  richly  instead  of 

To-morrow,  Piso,  at  the  evening  hour, 

Thy  friend  will  lead  thee  to  his  simple  bower. 

To  keep  with  feast  our  annual  twentieth  night ; 
If  there  you  miss  the  flask  of  XJhian  wine. 
Yet  hearty  friends  you  '11  meet,  and  while  you  dine, 

Hear  strains  like  those  in  which  the  gods  delight ; 
And  if  you  kindly  look  on  us  the  while, 
We'll  reap  a  richer  banquet  from  thy  smile.         J.  H.  M. 


It  is  of  brass ;  but  see  what  boldness  of  a  boar  has  the 
modeller  produced,  while  giving  a  form  to  a  breathing 
wild  beast,  that  bristles  with  the  hairs  on  its  neck, 
gnashes  with  its  sharpened  tusk,  sends  from  its  eyes  a 
terrible  brilliancy,  (and)  has  its  lips  moistened  with 
foam.  It  is  no  wonder  that  it  destroyed  a  select  host  of 
young  men.* 

'Tis  bronze ;  but  mark  with  what  fierce  prowess  fired, 

By  cunning  hands,  and  with  what  life  inspired. 

Erect  his  bristles  stand ;  his  tusks  for  fight 

He  gnashes,  and  his  eyes  flash  horrid  light ; 

All  bathed  his  lips  in  foam.     Heroes,  no  more 

We  marvel,  that  ye  fell  by  such  a  boar.  G.  S. 


From  her  nurse,  the  sea,  Apelles  saw  Venus  her- 
self brought  forth  naked.  And  such  he  moulded  her, 
squeezing  her  ringlets,  still  wet  with  the  foam  of  the 
water,  with  her  tender  hands. 

When  from  the  sea,  her  nurse,  appeared  in  view 
Venus,  Apelles  saw  her  naked  charms ; 

And  moulded  her,  still  wet  with  Ocean's  dew. 

And  her  locks  squeezing  with  her  tender  arms.    G.  B. 

*  This  alludes  to  the  body  of  young  men,  who  went  out  to  hunt  the 
Calydonian  boar.  See  Ovid  Metam.  viii.  271,  and  foil.,  whose  description 
of  Uie  animal  is  taken  from  Hesiod*s  Shield  of  Hercules,  t.  388—392. 

Edwards's  selection.  225 

CCn.   ETON  extracts,  163  EP. 

Bock-loving  Echo,  antitype  of  sound, 

Pan's  mistress,  that  gives  back  his  jocund  strain. 

The  speaking  image  of  all  mouths  around, 
The  favourite  play-thing  of  the  happy  swain, 

Lives  there  in  stone.    Speak,  stranger,  while  you  gaze ; 

It  too  will  speak  ;  hark  !  now  go  your  ways.       Hay. 

CCin.   WESTMINSTER,  2  BOOK,  12  EP. 

Say  not  a  word,  when  Echo  you  pass  near. 

Who  babbles,  and  is  still.     Whate'er  I  hear 

I  answer.     If  from  you  there  comes  no  sound, 

I'm  silent.     Where  can  tongue  be  juster  found  ?     G.  B. 

On  this  wave-beaten  rock  did  sailors  place  me,  Pria- 
pus,  as  the  guardian  of  the  Thracian  Bosporus;  to 
whom,  when  calling  upon  me,  I  have  frequently  come 
as  a  quick  helper,  O  stranger,  bringing  the  jpleasant 
Zephyr  down  on  the  stern.  Wherefore,  as  is  rights  you 
shall  behold  my  altar  not  without  the  steam  of  fat,  nor 
wanting  the  garlands  of  the  spring,  but  ever  with 
frankincense  and  the  fire  of  sacrifice.  And  yet  not  even  an 
hecatomb  so  pleases  ^  the  deities,  as  does  a  slight  honour. 

I,  Priapus,  little  to  look  upon,  am  dwelling  upon  a 
spur  of  land  on  the  sea-shore,  with  a  life  not  the  least 
hostile  to  sea-birds,  with  a  pointed  head,  without  feet, 
such  as  the  sons  of  hard-labouring  fishermen  would  have 
carved  on  desert  strands.  But  if  any  person,  fishing 
with  a  basket  or  a  rod,  shall  call  upon  me  to  assist,  I 
come  quicker  than  the  wind,  and  I  behold  what  is  run- 
ning^ under  the  water.  Truly  the  deities  have  a  charac- 
ter from  their  acts,  not  ftieir  form. 

'  In  avSdvtrat^  which  is  not  found  elsewhere  in  the  passive  or  middle 
voice,  lies  hid  &vdavk  ri :  and  hence  for  rt^i}  the  Sjmtax  requires  ri/t^c — 

•  By  TO.  Okovra,  Jacobs  understands,  "  vessels  running  over  the  sea.** 
He  should  have  suggested  ydp  tA  va96vra  in  lieu  of  «at  rA  Bkovra — 
For  it  is  not  when  vessels  are  running  over  the  sea,  but  when  they  are 
suffering  in  it,  that  the  aid  of  a  deity  is  required. 




The  (horse  called)  Eagle/  who  formerly  shone  (in 
glory)  more  than  the  steeds,  whose  feet  are  as  fleet  as 
hurricanes — who  formerly  concealed^  his  limbs  under 
(costly)  trappings* — whom  the  oracle-singing  Pytho 
crowned  as  the  prize  of  Phoebus,  when  it  started,  lie  a 
bird,  swift  on  wing,  and  Nemea,  the  nurse  of  the  grim 
lion,*  and  Pisa,  and  the  Isthmus,  that  has  a  doubled  sea- 
shore,* is  now  fettered  in  his  neck  by  a  clog,  as  if  it 
were  a  rein,  and  grinds^  with  a  rugged  stone  the  fruit 
of  Ceres,  enduring  a  fate  equal  to  that  of  Hercules ; 
for  he,  after  having  accomplished  deeds  so  many,  fitted 
himself  to  a  slavish  yoke. 


I,  O  man,^  who  carried  away  the  crown  at  the  Al- 
ph^us* — I,  who  was  formerly  twice  proclaimed  (victor) 
at  the  water  of  Castalia — I,  who  was  formerly  bruited  at 
Nemea — I,  formerly  the  (race)-horse  at  the  Isthmus — I, 
who  formerly  ran  equal  to  the  winged  winds — am  now, 
when  become  old,  turning  round,  as  you  see  the  stone 
that  runs  in  a  circle,  (and)  ^am  driven  along,  the  inso- 
lence of  crowns.^ 

^  Amongst  the  ancients,  as  amongst  the  modems,  names  were  given  to 
horses,  indicatiye  of  some  peculiar  power  they  exhibited. 

'  In  lieu  of  KaOaypafievoQ^  which  is  scarcely  intelligible  as  regards  the 
sense,  and  inadmissible  on  the  ground  of  syntax,  the  author  probably 
wrote  Ka\v\l/dfitvoc — 

•  The  word  fiiTpa  is  elsewhere  applied  to  a  head-dress. 

•  Compare  in  Horace,  *' Jubas  tellus — ^leonum  Arida  nutrix.'* 

•  So  Horace  has  "  bimaris — Corinthi." 

•  Instead  of  iXa,  which  Jacobs  vainly  defends,  Pierson  suggested  aXtX — 
'  The  horse  is  addressing  his  master,  a  miller,  as  shown  by  -3Esop*s  Fab. 

193,  ed.  Coray.    Jacobs  objects  to  &  *vtp —  but  is  unable  to  suggest  any 
thing  satisfactory. 

•  The  river  Alph^us  was  near  Pisa,  where  the  Olympic  games  where 
celebrated,  and  the  fountain  Castalia  near  Uie  spot  where  the  Pythian 
took  place. 

» — »  Such  is  the  literal  version  of  the  Greek  <it€0|«v  ^fipiQ  iXawSfit- 
voQ —  But  the  poet  probably  wrote  crri^lwv  9'  i}/3ptc  'i\tv  /tc  ydvog^  i.  e. 
**  and  insulting  conduct  has  taken  away  from  me  the  glory  of  crowns.** 

Edwards's  selection.  227 

Beside  Alpheus  victor  I  was  named, 

And  by  Castalia's  waters  twice  proclaimed ; 

Known  to  the  Nemean  and  Isthmian  course ; 

Not  the  wing'd  wind  could  match  the  favourite  horse ; 

Now,  in  my  age,  I  turn  this  circling  stone. 

And  shame  the  glory  of  each  youthful  crown.        G.  S. 


Thou,  O  swallow,  who  hast  flown  through  the  whole 
of  the  earth  and  islands,  art  bringing  up  thy  young  in 
the  picture-frame  of  a  painted  Medea;  and  dost  thou 
expect  that  this  Colchian  will  keep  any  faith  with  thy 
young  ones,  who  did  not  spare  even  her  own  children  ? 

Thou  sielie  fowle,  what  means  this  foolish  paine, 
To  flie  to  Colche  to  hatch  thy  chickins  there  ? 

A  mother  thou  mayst  hap  returne  again ; 
Medea  will  destroy  thy  broode,  I  feare. 

For  she,  that  spared  not  to  spoil  hir  owne, 

Will  she  stand  friend  to  fowles,  that  are  unknowne  ? 



Although  I  lie  here,  Myc^n^,  the  dust  of  a  desert, 
and  although  I  am  more  obscure  to  the  sight  than  every 
hillock,  yet  any  one,  who  has  looked  upon  the  renowned 
city  of  llus,  whose  walls  I  have  trodden  down,  and 
made  empty  every  dwelling  of  Priam,  will  know  from 
thence  how  strong  I  was  formerly ;  and  though  old  age 
has  exposed  me  to  insult,  I  am  satisfied  with  Mseonides 
(Homer)  as  a  witness  (in  my  favour). 



The  diviners  by  stars  say  I  shall  breathe  (live)  for 
thrice  ten  and  twice  three  (years).  But  for  me  even  the 
third  decad  is  sufficient.  For  this  is  the  limit  of  the  life 
of  man.  But  the  limits  beyond  this  are  for  Nestor ;  and 
even  Nestor  arrived  at  Hades. 

Q  2 



Antipater  has  given  a  Kttle  book,  as  a  birthday  pre- 
sent, to  Peison,  having  laboured  at  it  for  one  night.  And 
may  he  receive  it  kindly,  and  praise  the  poet ;  since  the 
great  Jove  is  soothed  by  a  litde  frankincense. 


These  women,  who  spake  like  gods  in  their  hymns, 
has  Helicon  brought  up,  and  the  Macedonian  rock  of 
Pieria,  (namely,)  rraxilla,  Moero,  the  mouth  ^  of  Anyt^, 
the  female  Homer ;  Sappho,  the  ornament  of  the  Lesbian 
damsels  with  their  lovely  locks ;  Erinna;  the  renowned 
Telesilla;  and  thee,  Corinna,  who  sang  the  martial  shield 
of  Ath^n^ ;  the  sweet-tongued*  Nossis ;  and  Myrtis  the 
sweet-sounding,  all  workers  on  the  pages  that  flow  (live) 
for  ever.  The  great  Heaven  has  produced  nine  Muses ; 
and  nine,  too,  the  Earth,  an  unperishing  source  of  delight 
to  mortals. 

The  Heliconian  springs  and  rocky  steeps 

Of  Macedonian  Pierus  have  heard 

The  god-voiced  strains  of  women,  and  with  songs 

Praxilla  nurtured — Myro— Anyte, 

The  female  Homer — thee  of  Lesbian  dames 

Famed  for  their  flowing  ringlets — Sappho  first 

In  glory — and  Erinna — Telesilla, 

Great  in  thy  growing  fame-7-Corinna,  thee — 

Thee,  the  bright  songstress  of  the  warlike  shield, 

Athena's — Nessis  mild  and  woman  voiced — 

And  gentle  Myrtis  last — meet  makers  all 

On  the  bright  page  of  ever-living  song. 

Nine  Muses  mighty  Uranus  produced. 

And  nine  the  Earth — a  deathless  joy  to  man.     Hay. 

^  Jacobs  quotes  appositely  "  os  Pindari,"  from  Velleius  Paterc.  i.  18. 

^  As  every  poetess  might  be  called  OtiXvyXutaaoe,  it  is  strange  that 
Jacobs  did  not  suggest  0'  rfdvyXiafftrov — from  the  usual  confusion  in  A 
and  A, 

Edwards's  selection.  229 


Praise  the  strong  verse  of  the  untiring  Antimachiis, 
worthy  the  (stern)  eyebrow  of  ancient  demigods,  *  worked 
on  the  anviP  of  the  Pierian  (Muses),  if  thou  hast  ob- 
tained by  lot  an  acute  ear ;  if  thou  admirest  a  voice,  in 
which  there  is  no  laughter  ;*  if  thou  seekest  a  road  un- 
trodden and  untravelled  by  others.  And  though  Homer 
holds  the  sceptre  of  song,  and  Jove  is  superior  to  Nep- 
tune, yet  Neptune,  inferior  to  him,  is  the  (next)  highest 
of  the  immortals.  And  the  inhabitant  of  Colophon  is 
placed  under  Homer  indeed;  but  he  is  the  leader  of  the 
mass  of  other  minstrels. 


O  books  of  Aristophanes,  the  labour  of  a  god,  on  which 
the  ivy  of  Acharnae  has  shed  in  abundance  its  green 
foliage.  See  how  much  of  Bacchus  does  the  page  pre- 
sent; and  how  the  tales,  filled  with  austere  Graces, 
send  a  sound.  Oh  thou  the  best  in  spirit,  and  a  Comic 
writer  equal  to  the  habits  of  Greece !  who  hast  both 
a  hate  of,  and  a  laugh  against,  things  worthy  (of  either). 

The  plays  of  Aristophanes !  around  that  work  divine, 
Th'Acharnian  ivy's  clustering  wreaths  in  verdant  glory 

What  inspiration  in  the  page !   'Tis  Bacchus'  self !    What 

Of  graceful  poesy,  which  yet  vnth  dreaded  wit  abounds. 
Grenius  of  Comedy !  how  just,  how  true  to  all  that's  Greek, 
Whate'er  in  satire  or  in  jest  thy  personages  speak.     H.  W. 


Orpheus  soothed  wild  beasts,  but  thou  (soothest)  Or- 
pheus (himself).  Phoebus  conquered  the  Phrygian,^  but 
he  yields  to  thee,  Glaphyrus,*  a  name  suited  to  thy  art  and 

' — *  Ck)mpare  Horace's  expression — "  tomatos  incudi  reddere  versus." 
'  Jacobs  refers  to  Quinciilian,  x.  ^%  where  Antimachus  is  similarly 
'  Namely,  Marsyos. 
*  Jacobs  refers  to  Juvenal,  vL  77. 


body.  Ath^n^  would  not  have  thrown  away  the  pipe, 
had  she  played  such  notes  as  thou  dost,  giving  a  varied 
pleasure;  and  Sleep  himself,  on  hearing  thee,  would 
slumber  in  the  arms  of  Pasithee. 



Juno  once  said,  when  cut  up  ^  by  the  beauty  of  Gany- 
mede, and  having  in  her  heart  the  soul-eating  sting  of 
jealousy, "  Troy  has  produced  a  male  flame  for  Jupiter; 
therefore  will  I  send  a  flame  against  Troy,  (namely,)  Paris 
the  bringer  of  calamity;  and  there  shall  cpme  to  the  peo- 
ple of  lUum  not  an  eagle,^  but  vultures,  to  a  feast,  when 
the  Greeks  shall  take  away  the  spoils  of  their  labours.'* 


I  will  snatch.  Love,  the  burning  torch  from  your  hand, 
and  I  wiU  rob  you  of  the  quiver  that  hangs  about  your 
shoulders,  if  you,  the  offspring  of  fire,  are  really  asleep, 
and  if  we  mortals  have  for  a  little  time  rest  from  your 
arrows.  But  even  thus  I  fear  you,  the  plotter  of  craft, 
lest  you  should  conceal'  some  things  against  me,  and 
see  even  in  sleep  an  unpleasant  dream. 


On  this  day  cut  off*,  Caius,  the  first  pleasant  harvest  of 
your  cheeks,  and  the  youthful  curls  of  your  chin,  and 
your  father  Lucius  shall  receive  in  his  hand  your  prayed- 
for  down,  which  has  been  growing  for  many  a  day  ;*  and 
persons  will  make  you  presents  of  gold,  but  I  of  joyous 
elegiac  verses ;  for  the  Muse  is  not  worse  than  Plutus. 

*  The  word  in  Greek  is  vpioftiva,  **  sawn,"  for  which  the  proper 
English  here  is  "  cut  up — ** 

*  This  alludes  to  the  eagle,  which  was  sent  by  Jupiter  to  carry  Gany- 
mede to  heaven,  as  mentioned  by  Horace,  Od.  iii.  2. 

'  The  Greek  is  ftri  riva  iceu0yc~where  Jacobs  says  that  nva  agrees 
with  ^6\ov^  to  be  got  out  of  ^oMirXoKi,  But  this  is  impossible.  The 
author  wrote,  perhaps,  firi  riv  dxfi  QJQ — "  lest  you  bring  some  sorroi^^s — ** 

*  Literally,  "  sun." 


I  am  the  god  of  rustics ;  why  do  you  make  libations 
with  cups  of  gold  ?  Why  pour  out  the  wine  of  the  Italian 
Bacchus  ?  and  tie  to  a  rock  the  curved  necks  of  bulls  ? 
Spare  them.  We  are  not  delighted  with  these  sacrifices. 
I  am  Pan,  living  near  hills,  formed  of  mere  wood,  feed- 
ing on  lambs,  and  drinking  new  wine  from  an  earthen 


I,  "  the  pure  " — for  the  Nymphs  have  given  this  name 
to  me  above  all  other  rills — did,  when  a  robber  had 
murdered  persons  reclining  near  me,  and  washed  in  holy 
water  his  blood-stained  hand,  turn  back  that  sweet 
stream ;  nor  do  I  still  bubble  up  for  way-farers ;  for 
who  would  call  me  still  "  tte  pure  "? 


The  risings  (east)  and  settings  (west j  are  the  measures 
of  the  world ;  and  the  deeds  of  Nero  have  gone  through 
both  boundaries.  The  rising  sun  has  seen  Armenia 
subdued  by  his  hands,  and  the  setting,  Germany.  Let 
the  double  strength  of  war  be  celebrated.  The  Araxes 
and  Rhine  know  that  they  are  drunk  by  nations  in 


Not  if  the  Ocean  were  to  lift  up  its  whole  mass  of 
water,  nor  if  Germany  were  to  drink  up  the  whole  Rhine, 
would  they  injure  the  power  of  Rome  ever  so  littie,  as 
long  as  it  remains  confident  that  Caesar  will  give  *  favour- 
able omens.  Thus  even  oaks,  sacred  to  Jupiter,  stand 
firmly  at  their  roots,  while  the  winds  scatter  the  dry 

Lol  the  young  cow  causes  to  roU^  in  the  soil  the  earth- 

'  The  sense  requires  frtjfiavhiVf  not  orifiaivtiv — 

•  Jacobs,  who  vainly  endeavours  to  defend  lpl<r<rci,  should  have  sug- 
gested k\io<rtu  The  words  are  constantly  interchanged,  from  the  con- 
fiision  in  MSS.  between  p  and  X.    Hence,  too,  for  xspcrov  we  must  read 


cutting  instnu3[ient,  and  leads  likewise  the  calf  under  its 
udder,  while  fearing  the  ruling  herdsman,  (and)  waiting 
for  the  young  thing,  (and)  sparing  both  cleverly.  Stop, 
thou  plougher  of  a  doubled  distance,  thou  tumer-up  of 
the  soil ;  do  not  pursue '  the  animal  doubly  weighted 
with  a  double  labour. 


The  oaths  of  the  Fates,  that  are  not  to  be  broken, 
sealed  the  last  sacrifice  of  Priam  at  the  Phrygian  altar. 
But  the  sacred  fleet  has  now  for  you,  jEneas,  an  Italian 
port,  the  prelude^  of  a  heavenly  country.  To  a  good 
purpose  has  the  Trojan  tower  been  destroyed.  For  a 
city,  the  queen  of  all  the  W9rld,  has  been  raised  up  in 

CCXXVni.    ETON   EXTRACTS,  35   EP. 

When  the  hand  of  Timomachus  was  painting  the  mur- 
derous Medea,  drawn  in  opposite  directions  by  jealousy 
and  (love  for)  her  children,  it  undertook  an  endless  task, 
that  it  might  trace  a  twofold  conduct,  one  inclining 
to  anger,  the  other  to  pity.  But  it  fulfilled  both. 
Look  on  the  form.  Amidst  the  threat  there  is  a  tear, 
and  in  the  midst  of  pity  passion  holds  a  place.  '*  The 
delay  is  sufiicient,'*  said  a  wise  man.  The  blood  of 
children  was  becoming  to  Medea,  but  not  to  the  hand  of 

When  bold  Tim<xnachus  essay'd  to  trace 
The  souFs  emotions  in  the  varying  face, 
With  patient  thought  and  faithful  hand  he  strove 
To  blend  with  jealous  rage  maternal  love. 

*  Instead  of  Swlyg,  "  pursue,"  one  would  have  expected  Swoye, 
**  drive  on — " 

'  Jacobs  explains  irdrprig  tftpoifiiov  by  **  the  beginning  of  the  Roman 
empire."  But  this  is  scarcely  admissible.  Perhaps  the  poet  wrote, 
"Op/iov  Ix^tfv  voLTpfiQ  ippovpiov  evpt  vitiQ — i.  e.  "  having  a  port,  has  found 
the  guard  of  a  new  country — "  not  "Opfiov  ix^  frdrpijg  ^poifiiov  o{fpavtrie<- 

Edwards's  selection.  233 

Behold  Medea.    Enyj  most  confess, 
In  both  the  passions,  his  complete  success. 
Tears  in  each  threat ;  a  threat  in  every  tear ; 
The  mind  with  pity  warm,  or  chill  with  fear. 
'     "  The  dread  suspense  I  praise,"  the  critic  cries ; 
Here  all  the  judgment,  all  the  pathos  lies. 
To  stain  with  filial  blood  the  guilty  scene, 
Had  marr'd  the  artist,  but  became  the  queen. 

J.  H.  M. 

The  fen  Medea*s  soul  to  trace. 

Its  conflict  waging  in  her  face  ; 

To  paint  the  wife's,  the  mother's  mind, 

At  once  to  hate  and  love  inclined, 

Timomachus^  might  task  thy  skill ; 

Yet  did  thy  hand  its  part  fulfil. 

Pity  and  rage  are  mingling  here  ; 

The  menace  struggling  with  the  tear. 

Painter,  the  murderous  thought  we  see  ; 

Enough.    The  deed  beseems  not  thee.      G.  S. 


Thou  winter-torrent,  with  a  violent  movement,  why 
dost  thou  erect  thy  crest  thus  highly,  closing  up  the 
foot-paths  of  way-farers  ?  Surely  thou  art  drunk  with 
showers,  and  dost  not  bring  for  the  Nymphs  a  clear 
stream,  but  hast  obtained  a  contribution  from  clouds  dark 
as  ink ;  I  shall  behold  thee  dried  up  by  the  sun,  that 
knows  how  to  test  the  genuine  and  the  not  genuine  water 
of  rivers. 


The  a^eeable  panoply  of  the  poor  is  this  bread-dish, 
and  garland  of  leaves  wet  with  dew,  and  this  sacred 
bone,  the  out-work  of  a  dead  skull,  the  uppermost  guard 
of  life.  Drink,  says  the  carving,  and  eat,  and  lie  with 
flowers  around  you.     Such  do  we  become  on  a  sudden. 


The  colour  and  the  charm  of  Zeuxis.  But  Satyreius, 
after  painting  me  in  a  small  piece  of  crystal,  gave  this 


beautiful  and  clever  production  to  Arsinoe;  and  I  am 
the  likeness  of  the  queen;  and  I  want  not  even  a  little  of 
her  greatness. 


For  what  purpose  hast  thou,  Cytherea,  put  on  these 
arms  of  Mars,  and  bearest  this  weight  in  vain?  Although 
naked,  thou  didst  disarm  Mars.  If,  then,  a  god  failed, 
in  vain  dost  thou  bring  arms  against  men. 

Fair  queen  of  love,  those  arms  you  bear 

The  god  of  war  is  wont  to  wield. 
Oh  !  shake  not  thou  the  sounding  spear  ; 

Oh  !  hold  not  thou  the  blazing  shield. 
Thy  naked  power  taught  Mars  to  yield  ; 

The  mighty  Tamer  bow'd  before  thee. 
When  gods  before  thy  charms  have  kneel'd, 

Must  they  be  arm'd,  e'er  men  adore  thee  ? 

J.  H.  M. 

The  arms  of  Mars  why,  Venus,  wear  ? 

Why  such  an  useless  burden  bear  ? 

Mars,  though  a  god,  thy  naked  charms 
Spoil'd  of  his  arms  ; 

Then,  against  mortals,  spear  and  shield, 

Why  dost  thou  wield  ?        J.  W.  B. 

CCXXXIV.   WESTMINSTER,    1    BOOK,  88   EP. 

To  thee,  Ino,  did  Venus  herself,  after  loosening  the  ced- 
tus  of  desire  from  her  bosom,  give  it  to  keep,  in  order 
that  you  might  subdue  men  by  philtres  that  soothe  the 
mind ;  but  thou  hast  used  it  against  me  alone. 

The  love-creating  cestus  from  her  breast 
Venus  untied,  and,  Ino,  gave  it  thee. 

That  its  allurements  might  create  unrest 

In  every  man,  and  more  than  all  in  me.     Hat. 




More  quickly  shall  heaven  extinguish  the  stars,  or  the 
sun  perchance  make  the  look  of  the  night  brilliant  (as 
day),  and  the  sea  have  its  water  to  be  drawn  up  by  man 
with  a  sweet  flavour,  and  a  dead  man  run  back  to  the 
country  of  the  living,  than  shall  oblivion  of  the  pages  of 
the  olden  time  seize  hold  of  the  widely  renowned  name 
of  the  Mseonian  Homer. 

Sooner  shall  heaven  put  out  its  starry  light, 

Th€i  sun,  with  noon-day  splendour  deck  the  night ; 

Sooner  the  salt-sea  taste,  like  fountains,  sweet, 

Or  to  the  living  turn  the  dead  their  feet, 

Than  shall  oblivion  seize  on  Homer's  name, 

And  of  the  page  of  old  destroy  the  fame.         G.  B. 


Oh !  ivy,  that  after  leading,  as  in  a  dance,  thy  foot,  se- 
cretly, creepingly,  and  crookedly,  dost  strangle  the  bunch- 
producing  beauty  of  Bacchus'  (vine),  thou  dost  not 
bind  us,  but  destroyest  thyself;  for  who  would  choose 
ivy  for  his  temples,  unless  he  had  mixed  (the  wine  of) 
Bacchus  ? 


Either  a  god  came  to  earth  from  heaven,  to  show  his 
likeness,  Phidias,  or  thou  didst  go  (up)  to  see  the  god. 

Say,  Phidias,  did  the  god  come  down  to  thee  ? 

Or  didst  thou  mount  to  heaven  his  form  to  see  ?     H.  W. 


In  addition  to  all  his  labours,  Juno  wished  this  the 
last,  namely,  to  see  the  daring  Hercules  deprived  of  arms. 
Where  is  the  lion's  cloak,  and  the  arrow  that  rattled  on 
his  shoulders,  and  the  branch  of  a  tree  with  its  heavy 
foot,  that  was  the  wild-beast  destroyer  ?  Of  all  has  Love 
stript  thee.  And  yet  it  is  not  strange,  that,  after  making 
Jupiter  a  swan,  he  has  despoiled  Hercules  of  arms. 


Each  toil  attempted,  and  each  toil  sorpast, 

Juno  reserved  this  labour  for  the  last. 

Spoil'd  of  his  arms  she  wish'd  him ;  and  she  viewed, 

And  smiled  to  see,  the  son  of  Jove  subdued. 

No  more  Abides,  formidably  drest. 

Arms  with  the  lion's  skin  his  milder  breast ; 

His  winged  quiver  seems  an  useless  freight ; 

Nor  feels  he  of  his  club  the  force,  but  weight. 

Deposed  by  Love,  apart  each  weapon  lies. 

Nor  wonder  thou,  dread  empress  of  the  skies  ; 

If  Jove  was  humbled  to  a  swan  by  Love, 

Why  may  not  Love  disarm  the  son  of  Jove  ?     Ogle. 


O*  Venus,  fond  of  smiles,  (and)  the  attendant  on  the 
marriage-bed,  who  has  decked  thee,  a  honey-dropping 
deity,  with  the  arms  of  war  ?  The  paean  ^  is  dear  to  thee, 
and  Hymen  with  his  golden  locks,  and  the  sweet-toned 
beauties  of  shrill  flutes.  Why,  then,  hast  thou  put  on 
this  man-destroying  dress?  Surely  after  robbing  the 
daring  Mars,  thou  art  not  boasting  of  what  Venus  is  able 
to  do. 


Why  so  ill-tempered  ?  why  these  random  tearings  of 
the  hair,  Philoenis,  and  suffusion  of  moisture  in  the  eye  ? 
Surely  you  have  not  seen  your  lover  holding  another 
Woman  to  his  bosom  !  Tell  me.  We  know  a  remedy 
for  sorrow.  You  are  in  tears ;  but  you  do  not  speak. 
In  vain  you  take  upon  you  to  deny.  Eyes  aie  more 
trust-worthy  than  the  tongue. 

Why  art  thou  sad  ?     Why  thus  disordered  flow 
Those  lovely  tresses  o'er  thy  breast  of  snow  ? 
Why  hangs  the  tear  on  Lesbia's  clouded  eye  ? 
In  stranger  arms  does  faithless  Cleon  lie  ? 
In  me  a  sovereign  remedy  you  '11  find, 
A  pleasing  vengeance  for  the  jealous  mind. 

^  Jacobs,  justly  objecting  to  Traidv,  would  read  Traardg,  "  the  nuptial 
room — ** 

Edwards's  selection.  237 

Silent  you  weep ;  your  secret  is  explained, 

Your  eyes  spei^  yolumes,  though  your  tongue  is  chain'd. 

F.  H. 
Why  lowers  my  lovely  Glycera  ?  And  why 
Those  tresses  torn  and  that  dejected  eye  ? 
I  have  a  charm  for  bleeding  hearts,  that  mourn 
Love's  fickle  wanderings,  cold  neglect  and  scorn. 
Oh !  vainly  mute  ;  those  speaking  eyes  reveal 
The  pang  that  gloomy  silence  would  conceal.  Bl. 


I,  who  W€i8  formerly  the  acropolis '  of  Perseus,  who 
went  through  the  air* — I,  who  fed  the  star,  haneful  to 
the  descendants  of  Ilus — am  given  up  as  a  dwelling- 
place  for  goat-flocks  of  the  desert,  paying  late  a  penalty 
to  the  gods  of  Priam. 


I,  who  was  of  old  a  city  with  much  gold — I,  who  re- 
ceived the  family  of  the  Atridse,  sprung  from  a  heavenly 
race — I,  who  destroyed  the  god-built  Troy — I,  who  was 
once  the  secure  palace  of  the  demigod  Hellenes — ^lie  here, 
Myc^n^,  a  pasture-place  for  sheep  and  kine,  preserving 
the  name  alone  of  my  former'  great  (deeds).  Truly, 
Dion,  hast  thou  been  a  care  to  Nemesis,  since  thou  hast 
been*  and  art  a  city,  while  Myc^n^  is  no  longer  seen. 


^Tryphon  induced  me,  an  Indian  Beryll,  to  become 

'  Namely,  Myc^n6. 

'  Jacobs  refers  to  Ovid  Met.  iv.  615,  "  Aera  carpebat  tenenim  stri- 
dentibus  alis.** 

*  The  sense  evidently  requires  tZv  irpiv  ifiwv  ftiydXwv — in  lieu  of 
T&v  iir*  Iftoi  fttydXiav — 

*  Instead  of  itrai  Kai  i(T<ri,  where  the  repeated  present  tense  is  unintel- 
ligible, the  poet  doubtless  wrote  ijc  <fif  Kai  iool —  as  translated. 

*— *  Such  is  the  literal  translation  of  an  Epigram,  that  Reiske,  Ber- 
nard, and  Pauw  could  not  understand,  and  Brunck  and  Jacobs  have 
failed  to  explain  satisfactorily.  For  though  the  two  last  scholars  saw  that 
it  was  written  on  the  sea-nymph  Gal6ne,  engraved  on  a  beryll,  ihey  did  not 
see  the  literal  errors  in  it.  Thus,  for  ftaXaKaXg  x«p<rci'  dvrjKe  co/taif,  the 
poet  probably  wrote  fioiKaK&g  xfip  ffuvlvetre  KdftaQ — **  the  hand  brough* 


Gal^n^,  and  with  soft  hands  he  sent  up  hairs ;  behold, 
both  Kps,  sailing  though  the  moist  sea,  and  bosom  with 
which  I  soothe  the  absence  of  wind.  But  should  the 
envious  stone  give  me  a  nod,  as  I  am  ready  to  start,  you 
wiU  know  me  quickly  swimming.^ 


Sit  under  this  shady  plane-tree,  stranger,  as  you  pass 
by,  whose  leaves  the  Zephyr  moves  with  its  gentle 
breath ;  where  Nicagoras  has  placed  me,  the  renowned 
son  of  Maia,  as  the  defender  of  his  fruit-producing  field 
and  property. 


When  Venus  came  out  naked  from  the  azure  wave, 
her  hair  dropping  with  the  foam  of  the  sea,  thus  did  she 
lay  hold  with  her  hands  of  the  ringlets  hanging  down 
her  white  cheeks,  and  squeeze  out  the  salt-water  of  the 
-Sgean,  showing  oilly  her  bosom — for  such  was  lawful. 
*  But  if  she  (were)  such,  let  the  mind  of  Mars  be  con- 


A.  In  silence  draw.  B.  On  what  account  ?  A.  Do 
not  draw  any  longer.*    B.  Why  so  ?  -4.  I  have  obtained 

together  (my)  tender  hair ;"  and  instead  of  roXav  BiXyia  dvtivtfUiiv,  where 
the  sea-nymph  is  absurdly  said  to  soothe  a  calm,  common  sense  leads  to 
rofis  &\s  BiXyerai  iv  uaviy — "  with  which  the  sea  is  soothed  in  its  mad- 
ness :"  while  in  fiv  Ss  fioi  tj  ^dovcpi)  vtvoy  XiOod  which  Jacobs  explains 
by,  "  should  the  stone,  which  retains  me  enviously,  assent ;"  there  seems 
to  lie  hid,  f^v  dk  fu  fti^  ^Oovepr^  K\ei<ry  XiOoc — "  if  the  curious  stone  did 
not  shut  me  in — **  Lastly,  in  lieu  of  vortprjv  nXiiovra  OaXaacaVf  where 
Jacobs  would  read  Xttovvra — ^perhaps  the  poet  wrote  vorepy  ViycXoivra 
OaXdfftry — "  smiling  upon  the  moist  sea — " 

* — *  In  the  Greek,  thus  literally  translated,  there  are  some  errors,  which 
no  scholar  has  noticed  as  yet,  much  less  corrected. 

'  Scaliger,  dissatisfied,  it  would  seem,  with  the  sense  and  metre — for 
dpvetrBai  has  not  elsewhere  the  second  syllable  long — suggested  apccov,  or 
rather,  as  Jacobs  conceives,  Ipeiov.  From  which  it  is  easy  to  arrive  at 
fii)  fiir  €pov  Ti — "  do  not  ask  me  any  thing  further  ** — ^in  lieu  of  /ii^sr 

Edwards's  selection.  239 

by  lot  the  sweet  *  drink  of  Quietness.  B.  (Thou)  the 
fountain  (art)  with  harsh  feelings.  A.  Taste,  and  you 
will  say  still  more  that  I  am  with  harsh  feelings.  B, 
Oh,  the  disagreeable  water.     A.  Oh,  the  chattering. 


Thou,  that  bringest  sleepless  cares  upon  mortals,  art 
sleeping,  the  child  of  the  mischievous^  foam-begotten 
(Venus) ;  not  lifting  up  the  burning  torch,  nor  twanging 
the  arrow  not-to-be-guarded-against,  from  the  horn- 
tips,  bent  in  opposite  directions.  Let  others  feel  confi- 
dent ;  but  I  fear,  O  thou  proud  in  spirit,  lest  thou  see, 
while  sleeping,  a  dream  bitter  to  myself. 

Dost  thou,  that  bid'st  us  mortals  wake  to  weep, 

Fell  child  of  foam-born  Venus,  dost  thou  sleep  ? 

No  flaming  torch  thou  hold'st  up ;  on  thy  string 

No  fatal  arrow  now  is  quivering. 

Others  may  courage  take.     Dread  boy,  'gainst  me. 

E'en  in  thy  sleep,  some  dream  of  woe  thou  'It  see.   G.  S. 


Why  hast  thou,  bird,  taken  away  my  pleasant  sleep  ? 
The  sweet  vision  of  Pyrrha  has  gone  away  flpng  from 
my  bed.  Is  this  the  payment  thou  givest  for  thy  bring- 
ing up,  since  I  placed  thee,  ill-fated  one,  to  rule  over 
the  whole  egg-getting  flock  in  my  dwelling.  By  the 
altar  and  sceptre  of  Sarapis,  thou  shalt  no  longer  crow 
by  night ;  thou  shalt  stain  with  blood  the  altar,  by  which 
I  have  sworn. 


Whilst  I  was  once  turning  over  the  book  of  Hesiod 
in  my  hands,  I  saw  on  a  sudden  Pyrrha  coming  to  me. 
And  throwing  down  the  book  on  the  ground  with  my 

'  As  ifZ^  here  is  at  yariance  with  the  subsequent  icikqov  vafiaroQ^  the 
author  probably  wrote  ry^e,  **  here—" 

'  Instead  of  drTipr^g,  which  is  not  a  Greek  word,  the  language  requires 
&TtipfJQt  as  suggested  by  Meineke  in  Delect.  Poetar.  Anthol.  p.  223. 


hand,  I  bawled  out  these  words — "  Why  art  thou,  old 
Hesiod,  giving  me  trouble  ? " 

Of  late  perusing  Hesiod's  *'  Works  and  Days," 
Advancing,  Pyrrha  met  my  raptur'd  gaze ; 
I  dropp'd  the  book,  and  cried  for  all  to  hear — 
"  Hence  with  thy  works  o'  days,  when  Pyrrha 's  near.** 

J.  W.  B. 

Thou  flagon,  my  old  partner  at  supper,  the  lover  of 
the  tapster's  measures,  thou  pretty  prattler,  with  a  gentle 
smile  and  a  long  throat,  thou  sharer  in  the  mysteries  of 
my  poverty  at  a  small  expense,  thou  hast  come,  however, 
after  a  long  time  to  my  hand.  Would  thou  hadst  been 
present,  unmixed  and  unwatered,^  as  a  maiden,  who 
comes  imdefiled  to  her  husband. 


Thou  wilt  lie,  when  dead,  occupying  five  feet  (of 
earth) ;  nor*  shalt  thou  (enjoy)  the  pleasures  of  life,  nor 
behold  the  light  of  the  sun.  So  that  take  thou  and  drain 
with  joy  the  cup  of  genuine  Bacchus  (wine),  O  Cincius, 
holding  thy  very  beautiful  wife  in  thy  arms.  But  if  thou 
hast  any  notion  of  immortal  wisdom,  know  that  Cleanthes 
and  Zeno  have  gone  to  the  depths  of  Hades. 


Loosen  the  long  stem  cables  from  the  vessels  in  a  safe 
port,  and,  after  letting  out  the  well-running  sails,  pass 
over  the  sea,  O  trader ;  for  the  storms  have  gone  away, 
and  mildly-smiling  Zephyr  is  just  now  rendering  gentle 
the  blue  wave.  And  now  the  oflfepring-loving  swallow 
is  building  its  marriage-dwelling  of  mud  and  dry  thatch, 
while  twittering  with  its  lips;  and  flowers  are  springing 

*  There  is  a  play  in  the  word  avvft^svTOQ,  which  means  "  unmarried,** 
and  "  unwatered ;"  for,  as  Jacobs  remarks,  the  writer  has  put  into  the 
mouth  of  the  Mend  of  the  flagon  some  words  usually  adopted  by  a  lover 
to  his  mistress. 

Edwards's  selection.  241 

up  on  the  land;  wherefore  do  thou,  obeying  Priapus, 
lay  hold  of  every  kind  of  a  sailing  business. 


I  am  revelling,  while  looking  upon  the  golden  dance 
of  the  stars  in  the  west,  'nor  have  I  with  my  heel  pressed 
heavily  the  dances  of  others;'  and  after  crowning  the 
hair  of  my  head  with  flowers  thrown  upon  it,  I  have  put 
into  movement  the  noisy  tambourine  with  tuneful  hands ; 
and  in  doing  so  I  pass  a  life,  like  that  of  the  world ;  for 
the  world  itself  is  not  without  a  lyre  and  a  crown.^ 


Thou  wert,  O  pleasant  flagon,  broken  near  wine- 
drinkers,  after  having  poured  forth  Bromius  (wine) 
from  the  whole  of  thy  belly;  for  a  stone  with  a  heavy 
crash  came,  like  a  thunderbolt,  from  a  distance  against 
thee,  (sent)  not  from  the  hands  of  Jove,  but  of  Dion. 
And  there  was  a  laugh  against  thee  and  frequent  jokes 
on  thy  being  broken,  and  a  great  uproar  arose  amongst 
friends.     I  do  not  lament  for  thee,  O  flagon,  that  hast 

E reduced  Bacchus  the  reveller,  since  thou  and  Semel^ 
ave  STiffered  equally.' 


No  longer  do  thou,  O  blackbird,  whistle  in  the  oak ; 
no  longer  utter  thy  notes  reposing  on  the  highest  bough. 
This  tree  is  thy  enemy;  but  haste  thither,  where  Qie 
vine  springs  up,  shaded  by  its  dark-green  leaves.     Upon 

' — '  Although  both  Scheefer  and  Jacobs  justly  object  to  oiti*  dXXwv 
Xd|  kpdpvva  xopo^c*  neither  haye  been  able  to  suggest  a  satisfactory 
emendation.  Perhaps  the  author  wrote  o^r^  aiikwv  XrjU  nkptfiva  xopotc, 
••  nor  has  a  care  for  flutes  ceased  in  dances." 

'  This  will  be  understood  by  bearing  in  mind,  as  remarked  by  Jacobs, 
that  the  poet  compares  the  rule  of  life  with  that  of  the  celestial  sphere, 
where,  amongst  the  constellations  that  were  supposed  to  join  in  a  dance, 
were  the  Lyre  and  the  Crown. 

*  For  Semel^,  during  her  intimacy  with  Jove,  was  destroyed  by  a 


its  branch  fix  thy  foot ;  and  about  it  sing,  pouring  forth 
shrill  notes  from  thy  mouth.  For  the  oak  produces  the 
lime-substance,  hostile  to  birds;  but  the  vine  the  grape; 
and  Bacchus  loves  the  trillers  of  song. 


Beautiful  are  the  laurels;  beautiful  does  the  water 
bubble  forth  under  the  roots  (of  the  trees),  and  the 
thick  wood  is  shady  far  and  wide,  run  down^  by  the 
Zephyrs.  To  way-farers  there  is  a  defence  against 
thirst  and  toil,  and  the  heat  of  the  sun. 


Me  Love  in  return  for  love  did  Praxiteles  give  to 
Phryn^,  a  god  to  a  mortal,  after  discovering  that  even  a 
god  was  a  reward.  Nor  did  she  give  a  denial  to  the 
artist.  For  her  mind  felt  a  fear,  lest  the  god  ^should 
take  up  arrows,  his  allies,  in  the  place  of  art  ;*  and  she 
dreads  no  longer  the  child  of  Venus,  but  thine,  Praxiteles, 
through  knowing  that  art  is  its  mother. 


A.  Where,  Hercules,  is  thy  great  club-branch,  and 
the  Nemean  cloak,  and  the  quiver  full  of  arrows  ? 
Where  thy  stern  growl  ?  Why  has  Lysippus  moulded 
thee  thus  with  humbled  looks,  and  mingled  (thy)  grief 
with  (his)  bronze.  Thou  art  in  trouble  at  having  been 
made  naked  of  thy  arms.  Who  has  destroyed  thee? 
B.  It  is  Love,  the  winged,  'who  is  really  singly'  a 
heavy  labour- 

*  In  lieu  of  iiridpofiovt  which  Jacobs  vainly  endeaYours  to  explain,  the 
poet  evidently  wrote  vvorpofiov,  "  trembling  under — ** 

3 — 9  This  seems  scarcely  intelligible.  Hence  one  would  prefer  ovra 
Tsxvy  avfifiaxa^  rd^a  jSoXy,  i.  e.  ^'  should  hurl  arrows,  being  the  allies  of 
art — "  in  lieu  of  dvri  rlxvjjc  ovfijiaxa  T6^a  Xdfiy, 

^ — *  In  lieu  of  ovrtag  els  jdapdf,  one  would  prefer  wv  ifaXg,  wg  fiapvg, 
"  although  a  child,  how  heavy —  "  ' 

Edwards's  selection.  ^"^^ 

dialogue  between  a  traveller  and  hercules. 

Trav,  Where's  now  the  club  by  great  Alcides  borne  ? 

The  skin  from  the  Nemean  lion  torn  ? 

Where  the  bent  bow  ?   The  full-fraught  quiver  where  ? 

The  walk  majestic  and  disdainful  air  ? 

Who  dared  the  mighty  Hercules  debase 

With  abject  posture  and  dejected  face  ? 
fferc.    In  molten  brass  Lysippus  made  me  bow, 

And  cast  this  cloud  of  sorrow  on  my  brow. 
Trav.  Spoil'd  of  your  arms,  you  moum'd  the  secret  shame ; 

But  who  the  mighty  son  of  Jove  could  tame  ? 
fferc.   Love  of  his  arms  the  son  of  Jove  despoils. 

The  only  heavy  toil  of  all  my  toils.  Ogle. 


A.  Tell  me,  thou  neatherd,  by  Pan,  whose  is  that 
large  statue  made  of  beech,  to  whom  you  are  maMng  a 
libation  of  milk?  B.  It  is  of  the  Tirynthian  hero,  the 
lion-slayer.  Do  you  not,  stupid,  see  his  bow  and  arrows, 
and  club  of  wild  olive  ?  A.  All  hail,  Alcides,  the  heifer- 
eater  ;  and  guard  these  stalls  and  make  them  with  ten 
thousand  kine  (sprung)  from  a  few. 


Strike,  hunters,  with  good  aim  the  wild  beasts,  ye, 
who  have  come  to  this  look-out,  (sacred  to)  Pan,  who 
dwells  on  hiUs,  whither  ye  go,  trusting  to  nets  or  iron, 
or  as  liming  (birds)  with  the  stick  placed  secretly.  And 
let  any  one  of  you  call  upon  me.  I  know  how  to  arrange 
the  capture  and  javelin  and  nets  and  sticks. 


I,  Lucian,  wrote  these,  acquainted  with  things  old  and 
foolish ;  for  what  are  thought  wise  by  mankind  are 
fooUsh.  ^here  is  no  wit  in  man  to  judge  between  them. 
But  what  you  wonder  at,  this  is  to  others  a  subject  of 

R  2 



"Of  Heliconian  Muses  let  us  begin  to   sing,"  did 

Hesiod,  as  the  story  goes,  write,  while  tending  sheep. 

"  Goddess,  the  anger  sing,"  and  "  Sing,  Muse,  the  man,*' 

did  Calliop^  say  with  the  mouth  of  Homer.     And  I  too ' 

must  write  a  prelude.     But  what  shall  I  write,  while 

beginning  to  put  forth  a  second  book  ?     "  Ye  Muses  of 

Olympus,  the  daughters  of  Jove,  I  should  not  have  been 

saved,  if  Nero,  a  descendant  of  Caesar,  had  not  given  me 



Pan.  State  truly.  Nymphs,  to  me  inquiring,  whether 
Daphnis  passing  by  has  rested  here  his  white  kids? 
Nymphs.  Yes,  yes.  Pan  the  pipe-player;  and  on  that 
elm  he  has  carved  some  writing  on  the  bark,  saying, 
"Pan,  Pan,  go  to  Malea,*  by  the  hill  Psophidion;*  I 
shall  come  there."  Pan.  Fare  ye  well.  Nymphs;  I 
take  my  steps  (thither). 

Pan,  Come  tell  me,  Nymphs,  and  let  the  truth  appear ; 
Did  Daphnis  stop  his  goats,  when  pasturing  here  ? 
Nymphs.  Yes,  piper  Pan  ;  and  on  that  poplar  tree, 

You'U  find  some  words  he  wrote,  and  meant  for 

thee — 
"  To  Malea  and  to  Psophis,  Pan,  come  on ; 
111  soon  be  there." 
Pan.  Thanks,  Nymphs ;  adieu ;  I'm  gone.     Hat. 

Although  you  boast  of  your  beauty,  know  that  even 
the  rose  comes  into  flower ;  and  yet,  when  faded,  it  is 
quickly  thrown  on  the  dimg-heap.  For  the  flower  and 
beauty  obtain  by  lot  an  equal  time ;  and  time,  through 
envy,  causes  them  to  fade  equally. 


Where  is  now  Praxiteles  ?    where  are  the  hands  of 

Polycleitus,  that  formerly  gave  breath  to  art  itself?    Who 

*»•  Malea  was  a  town,  and  Psophidion  a  Tillage  near  Psophis,  all 
three  in  Arcadia. 

Edwards's  selection.  245 

shall  model  the  sweet-scented  ringlets  of  Melit^,  or  her 
eyes  of  fire,  and  the  brilliancy  of  her  neck  ?  Where  are 
the  moulders  ?  where  the  stone-cutters  ?  It  were  be- 
coming for  such  a  form  to  have  a  temple,  like  a  statue  of 
the  blessed  (gods). 

CCLXVin.      WESTMINSTER,   3  BOOK,   45   EP. 

I  send  to  thee,  my  Bhodocle,  this  wreath  entwined  with 

Which  I  with  mine  own  hands  have  newly  cull'd  among 

the  bowers : 
The  lily  and  the  rose,  and  that  sweet  bud  that  woos  the 

With  the  violet  and  dew-besprinkled  daffodil  combined. 
When  then  the  chaplet  shades  thy  brow,  cast  haughty  looks 

away  ; 
For  thy  beauty,  blooming  like  the  flowers,  will  like  the 

flowers  decay.  K  T.  Price. 

To  thee  this  garland,  Rosamond,  I  send, 

Twined  by  my  hand,  where  beauteous  flow'rets  blend ; 

Lily  and  rose,  anemon6  the  wet, 

Narcissus  lithe,  and  purple  violet : 

Then,  as  thou  wear'st  it,  cease  thy  haughty  tone  ; 

The  wreaHi  and  thou  both  bloom,  and  both  are  gone. 

Fr.  Wrangham. 

This  crown  of  fairest  flowers,  my  Bhodocle, 

By  mine  own  fingers  wreath'd,  I  send  to  thee ; 

lie  lily,  and  anemon^  moist  with  dew. 

The  rose,  narcissus,  and  the  violet  blue. 

Then  put  it  on,  and,  while  it  gems  thy  hair, 

Be  not  vain-glorious  over-much,  my  fair ; 

Since,  like  thyself,  the  flowers  that  crown  thy  brow. 

Bloom  for  awhile  and  die— -the  flowers  and  thou. 


My  Bhodoclea !  take  this  flowery  band. 
Which  I  have  fashion'd  with  my  proper  hand. 
Of  lilies  and  of  roses,  fitly  set 
Amongst  narcissi,  and  anemones  wet 
With  dews,  and  many  a  purple  violet. 


But,  lady !  wreathe  it  humbly  round  thy  brow  ; 
Thou  know'st  it  soon  will  fade — and  so  must  thou. 

A  wreath  of  flowers  I  send  to  thee, 
Woven  by  myself,  my  Rhodocle. 

How  bright  the  rose  appears 
Beside  the  lily  !  anemon6  set 
Near  the  narcissus  and  blue  yiolet, 
All  wet  with  dewy  tears. 

Thus,  rich  with  many  a  living  gem, 
Place  on  thy  head  the  diadem  ; 

Thyself  a  fairer  flower 
By  far  than  all,  that  blended  bloom. 
But  be  not  proud ;  'tis  Beauty's  doom 

To  wither  in  an  hour.        ,  Wilson. 


Let  us,  Prodic^,  wash  and  deck  ourselves  with  gar- 
lands^ and  quaff  the  wine  unmixed^  and  take  still  larger 
glasses.  Short  is  the  life  of  those  in  joy ;  then  to  what 
remains  old  age  puts  a  stop,  and  lastly  death. 

Now  as  we  rise  from  the  reviving  wave. 

Braid  we  our  locks,  my  Prodice,  with  flowers  ; 

Drain  we  deep  bowls  of  wine,  and  wisely  save 
From  slow-paced  Care  Youth's  transitory  hours. 

For  withering  Age  upon  our  path  attends  ; 

Joys  drop  by  joys,  and  Death  the  picture  ends.     F.  H. 


Thou  hast  of  Venus  the  beauty,  of  Persuasion  the 
mouth,  the  body  and  the  early  bloom  of  the  vernal  flowers, 
and  the  voice  of  Calliop^,  the  mind  and  the  moderation 
of  Themis,  and  the  hands  of  Ath^n^ ;  and  together  with 
thee,  Phn^,  there  are  four  Graces. 

Persuasion's  lips,  the  bloom  of  beauty's  Queen, 
Calliope's  sweet  voice,  the  Hours'  gay  mien, 
Minerva's  hands  are  yours,  and  Themis'  mind. 
And  four  the  Graces  in  my  Phile  join'd.       J.  Addison 

Edwards's  selection.  247 


Rhodope  exalts  herself  on  her  beauty,  and  should  I 
say  at  any  time  "  Hail,  "  she  greets  me  with  disdainful 
eyebrows.  Should  I  ever  suspend  garlands  over  her 
doors,  she  in  a  passion  treads  them  down  with  her  disdain- 
ful feet.  O  ye  wrinkles,  and  Tinpitying  old  age,  come 
quickly ;  hasten,  and  do  you  persuade  Rhodopl. 

Cold  Rhodop^,  of  beauty  vain,  replies, 

Whene'er  I  greet  her,  with  disdainful  eyes. 

The  wreaths  I  wove,  and  on  her  door-post  bound. 

Scornful  she  tore  and  trampled  on  the  ground. 

Remorseless  age  and  wrinkjes,  to  my  aid 

Fly,  swiftly  fly,  and  Rhodope  persuade.         Bl, 


I  am  armed  against  Love  with  reasons  around  my 
breast ;  nor  shall  he  conquer  while  one  is  against  one ; 
and  I  a  mortal  wiU  stand  up  with  an  immortal.  But  if 
he  has  Bacchus  as  an  assistant,  what  can  I  do  single- 
handed  against  two  ? 

The  dart  of  Cupid  I  deride. 

And  dare  him  singly  to  the  field  : 
J£  Bacchus  fight  on  Cupid's  side, 

'Tis  surely  no  disgrace  to  yield.       Bl. 
With  love  I  war,  and  reason  is  my  shield. 
Nor  ever,  match'd  thus  equally,  will  yield  : 
If  Bacchus  joins  his  aid,  too  great  the  odds ; 
One  mortal  cannot  combat  two  such  gods.     Fawkes. 


Thou  hast  the  eyes,  MeHt^,  of  Juno,  the  hands  of 
AtMn^,  the  breasts  of  the  Paphian  (Venus),  the  ancles 
of  Thetis.  Happy  is  he  who  sees  thee ;  thrice  happy 
who  hears  thee  :  he  who  loves  thee  is  a  demigod ;  an  im- 
mortal he  who  embraces  thee. 

The  Queen  of  heaven's  bright  eyes  illume  thy  face ; 
Great  Pallas  lends  thine  arms  her  polish'd  grace ; 


Thetis  thine  ancle's  slender  strength  bestows, 

And  Venus  in  thy  swelling  bosom  glows. 

Happy  the  lover,  of  thy  sight  possest ; 

Who  listens  to  thy  melting  voice,  thrice  blest ; 

Almost  a  god,  whose  love  is  met  by  thine  ; 

Who  folds  thee  in  his  anns,  indeed  divine.       J.  H.  M. 

CCLiXIV.      ETON  EXTRACTS,  177  EP. 


Having  seen  opportunely  Prodic^  alone^  I  became  a 
suppliant^  and,  touching  her  ambrosial  knee,  said,  ^^  Save 
a  man  lost  all  but  a  Uttle,  and  give  me  the  breatlx  of  life, 
which  is  escaping."  And,  on  my  saying  so,  she  wept ; 
but  after  wiping  away  the  tear,  she  secretly  with  her  de- 
licate hands  cast  me  out. 

When  blest  I  met  my  Prodice  alone. 

On  the  cold  earth  a  timid  suppliant  thrown, 

I  clasp'd  her  beauteous  knees,  and  bade  her  save 

A  wretch,  at  her  disposal,  from  the  grave. 

Listening  she  wept.     But  soon  her  tears  were  dried. 

And  with  soft  hands  she  push'd  me  from  her  side. 

F.  H. 

I  Predict  found  once  alone,  and  at  leisure  ; 
When  kneeling  I  touch'd  her  ambrosial  knee  ; 

O  pity,  said  I,  a  man  dying,  my  treasure. 
And  save  him  the  breath  of  life,  hastening  to  flee. 

Thus  I  spoke :  and  she  wept.     Soon  the  weeping  was  o'er  ; 

When  she  rose,  and  with  lily  hands  show'd  me  the  door. 

G.  C.  S. 


Who,  and  from  whence  art  thou,  Dionysus  ?  For,  by 
the  genuine  Bacchus,  ^  I  know  thee  not  at  all.^  -The  son 
of  Jove  I  know  alone.  He  smells  of  nectar,  but  thou  of 
a  goat.  Surely  Celts,  in  their  poverty  of  grapes,  have 
formed  thee  of  grain.     Hence  it  is  meet  to  call  thee 

*— *  The  Greek  is  at  present  06  v  ImyiyvAvKta,  It  was  originally  0^ 
<tI  rt  yiyviifiTKu. 

Edwards's  selection.  249 

^Demetrius,  not  Dionysus ;  and  Bromns^  bom  of  grain, 
not  Bromius,^  (of  grapes). 

CCLXXVn.   WESTMINSTER,   4   BOOK,   2   EP. 

The  women  jeer  at  me  as  an  old  man,  teUing  me  to 
look  at  the  remains  of  youth  in  a  mirror.  But,  whether 
I  carry  white  hairs  or  black,  I  care  not,  when  coming 
towards  the  end  of  life ;  but  I  put  a  stop  to  annoying 
cares  by  sweet-scented  myrrh,  and  garlands  with  beau- 
tiful leaves. 

The  laughing  women  call  me  old, 
And  Md  me  in  the  glass  behold 

The  ruins  of  my  former  state  ; 
But  let  the  locks  my  temples  bear 
Be  gray  or  black,  I  little  care, 

And  leave  it  to  the  will  of  Fate. 
Yet  this  I  know  ;  though  Nature's  call 
Subjects  me  to  the  lot  of  all, 

Still,  as  my  ebbing  days  decline, 
I  '11  make  the  most  of  my  short  hours, 
Be  bathed  in  odours,  crown'd  with  flowers, 

And  drown  old  care  in  floods  of  wine.     J.  H.  M. 


Vulcan,  having  laboured  for  a  time,  finished  me.  But 
Venus  secredy  took  it  away  from  the  bed-room  of  her 
husband,  and  gave  it  to  Aiichises,  as  the  remembrance 
of  a  hidden  courtship,  and  Asclepiades  found  me  amongst 
the  descendants  of  JEneas, 


I  wish  my  father  had  taught  me  to  tend  thick- 
woolled  sheep,  that  I  might,  while  sitting  under  an  elm, 

* — *  In  ArifirfTptoVt  Ai6w<rov,  and  BpSfzov  and  Bpdfuiov,  there  are  plays 
on  words,  which  cannot  be  preserved  in  English. 


or  under  a  rock,  soothe  my  sorrows  by  playing  upon 
reeds.  Let  us,  Pierid^s,  fly  the  well-inhabited  city ;  let 
us  seek  another  country.  I  proclaim  to  all  that  destruc- 
tive drones  have  done  a  hurt  to  the  bees. 

Would  that  my  sire  had  taught  his  son  to  keep, 

'Neath  sheltering  rocks  or  elms,  the  fleecy  sheep ; 

To  seek  the  solace  of  dull  care  and  grief 

In  the  pipe's  music,  and  there  find  relief. 

Ye  Muses,  come  ;  together  let  us  flee 

The  well-bunt  city's  splendid  misery ; 

Seek  we  another  home  to  sing  at  ease ; 

For  here  the  wretched  drones  destroy  the  bees.    Hay. 


Venus,  having  washed  herself  here  together  with  the 
Graces  and  her  son  with  the  golden  arrow,  gave  its  love- 
liness as  a  reward. 


Once  on  a  time  while  wreathing 

A  garland  for  the  hair, 
Cupid  among  the  roses 

I  found,  and  seized  him  there  i 
And  by  the  wings  I  plunged  him, 

And  drank  him  in  the  wine ; 
And  ever  since  he  tickles 

With  his  wings  this  heart  of  mine.     Hay. 


Maria,  an  object  of  desire,  makes  much  of  herself. 
But  may  you,  venerable  Justice,  follow  up  her  proud 
bearing ;  not  with  death,  O  queen,  but  the  reverse,  may 
she  arrive  at  the  hairs  of  old  age ;  and  may  her  counte- 
nance become  hard  with  wrinkles.  May  gray  locks  pay 
for  these  tears.  May  beauty,  the  cause  oi  sinning,  pay 
for  the  sinning  of  the  mind. 

Edwards's  selection.  251 


You  see  the  true  form  of  the  wretched  Niob^,  as  if 
still  lamenting  the  fate  of  her  children.  If  (the  statue) 
has  not  obtained  a  soul,  lay  not  this  blame  to  the  art. 
It  has  represented  the  womanly  feeling  in  stone. 


When  Timomachus  painted  Medea,  he  introduced 
into  the  likeness  the  twofold  feelings  of  a  form  without 
life.  For  he  combined  the  jealousy  felt  on  account  of  a 
bed,  and  the  love  at  the  same  time  for  her  children,  and 
showed  by  her  looks  that  she  was  drawn  in  opposite 

CCLXXXVn.     WESTMINSTEB,   1   BOOK,    10  EP. 


Love  once  washed  his  Cyprian  mother  in  this  bath, 
after  having  himself  secretly  warmed  the  beautiftd  water 
with  his  torch.  And  when  sweat  had  poured  from  her 
ambrosial  skin,  mixed  with  the  clear  water,  ^  how  great 
a  spring  of  breath  did  it  Kght  up.^  From  thence  they 
ever  *  boil  up  a  rose-like  vapour,  as  if  the  golden  Pa- 
phian  (Venus)  was  still  being  washed. 

As  in  this  fount  Love  wash'd  the  Cyprian  dame, 
His  torch  the  water  tinged  with  subtle  flame ; 
And,  while  his  busy  hands  his  mother  lave, 
Ambrosial  dews  enrich  the  silver  wave, 
And  aU  the  undulating  bosom  fill ; 
Such  dews  did  her  celestial  limbs  distil. 
Hence  how  delicious  float  these  tepid  streams  ! 
What  rosy  odours !  what  nectareous  steams  I 

> — *  The  Greek  is  0£v  irvoirje  *6<rffov  Ikafirl/tv  iap — where  wotijc^ap, 
says  Jacobs,  means  "  a  sweet  odour."  But  that  it  could  not  do.  Per- 
haps the  poet  wrote  9iou  woidg  utg  TLvg*  dvrj^i  fivpa — "  it  sent  up  the 
breath  of  the  goddess,  like  Syrian  myrrh  : "  where  Otov  is  a  monosyllable. 

« — •  From  3ie  Greek  words  podottroav  dva^f  tovercv  diirfii^Vf  where  there 
is  nothing  to  govern  dvaZeiovciv,  may  be  easily  elicited  pas'  atim  via  ^d- 
ovtrav  dvTfjLi^v — "  new  roses  breathe  a  bubbling  vapour.*' 


So  pure  the  water  and  so  soft  the  air, 

It  seems  as  if  the  goddess  still  were  there.     Ogle. 


Here,  under  the  plane-trees,  did  Love,  when  tired, 
sleep  in  a  gentle  slumber,  after  handing  oyer  his  torch 
to  the  Nymphs ;  and  the  Nymphs  said  to  one  another — 
Why  do  we  hesitate  ?  ^  Would  we  had  extinguished  to- 
gether with  him  the  fire  of  the  heart  of  mortals — ^  But 
when  the  torch  had  burnt  even  the  water,  the  Nymphs, 
presiding  over  Loves,  poured  from  thence  into  a  bath 
warm  water. 

The  little  Love-god,  lying  once  asleep. 

Laid  by  his  side  his  heart,  in  flaming  brand. 
Whilst  many  Nymphs,  that  voVd  chaste  Hfe  to  keep, 

Came  tripping  by  ;  but  in  her  maiden  hand 
The  fairest  votary  took  up  that  fire, 

Which  many  legions  of  true  hearts  had  warm'd ; 
And  so  the  Greneral  of  hot  desire 

Was  sleeping  by  a  virgin  hand  disarm'd. 
This  brand  she  quenched  in  a  cool  well  by. 

Which  from  Love's  fire  took  heat  perpetual. 
Growing  a  bath,  and  healthful  remedy 

For  men  diseased.     But  I,  my  mistress*  thrall. 
Came  there  for  cure  ;  and  this  by  that  T  prove, 
Love's  fire  heats  water ;  water  cools  not  love. 




This  is  the  likeness  of  you,  Polymnia,  and  you  are 

that  of  a  Muse;  for  there  is  one  name  to  both,  and  one 



Here  do  I,  a  hapless  city,  that  am  no  city,  lie  together 
With  the  dead  inhabitants,  in  a  thoroughly  wretched 

* — *  AaalOt  could  not  be  nnited  to  an  aor.  1,  ofikopafitv,  with  refer- 
ence to  a  future  act,  there  is  probably  an  error,  it  would  not'be  difficult 
to  correct,  in  the  words  Mi  Sk  rovrtft  (rpkir<rafi(Vf  ilrroVf  6/aov — 

£DWAia>S'S   SELECTION.  253 

state.  Vulcan  has,  after  a  beating  down  by  Neptime, 
subdued  me.  Alas !  from  beauty  so  great  I  am  become 
dust.  But  Ao  ye,  passers-by,  grieve  over  my  fete.  Make 
a  libation  of  tears  for  Berjrtus  that  has  perished. 


A,  All  satyrs  are  fond  of  saucy  jokes.  And  do  you  say 
why,  on  looking  at  each  person,  you  burst  forth  into 
this  laugh  ?  B.  While  possessing  an  object  of  wonder, 
I  am  laughing  (at  the  thought)  how,  from  stones  brought 
together,  some  from  one  place  and  others  from  another, 
I  have  become  suddenly  a  satyr. 

A,  Satyrs  deal  in  pert  grimaces ; 

Saucy  satyr,  prithee  say, 
Why  you  look  in  all  our  faces. 
Thus  to  laughter  giving  way  ? 

B,  When  was  such  a  laughing  matter. 

When  was  such  a  wonder  known  ? 
All  at  once  I'm  grown  a  satyr, 

Out  of  these  odd  bits  of  stone.  H.  W. 


^Phyllis  directed  her  eyes  towards  the  sailing.  The 
oath  becamea  wanderer,  and  Demophoon  was  a  faithless 
man.^  But  now,  beloved  one,  I  am  the  faithful  De- 
mophoon by  the  sea-shore ;  aiyi  how  hast  thou,  Phyllis, 
become  faithless  ? 



If  ever  the  maiden  had  taken  the  quill  in  hand,  and 
touched  the  harp,  she  would  have  played  against  the 

'  In  lieu  of  trvfujupTbc  the  sense  requires  trvfi^tpriic, 

' — *  Jacobs  quotes  opportunely  Ovid.  Heroid.  Epist.  from  Phyllis  to 

Demophoon,  **  Demophoon,  yentis  et  verba  et  vela  dedisti ;  Vela  queror 

reditu,  verba  carere  fide." 


Strings  of  Terpsichor^.  And  if  she  had  burst  forth  into 
voice  with  the  loud  tone  of  tragedy,  she  would  have 
fashioned  the  swell  of  Melpomen^.  And  if  a  trial  of 
beauty  had  taken  place,  Venus  herself  would  have  been 
conquered  rather  (than  her),  even  though  Paris  had 
been  the  judge.  But  let  there  be  silence  on  our  part, 
lest  Baccnus  should  hear  and  feel  a  jealousy  on  account 
of  the  bed  of  Ariadn^. 


I  am  moaning  through  the  whole  night.  But  when 
the  dawn  of  morning  comes,  gratifying  me  so  that  I 
can  have  a  little  respite,  swallows  twitter  round,  and 
throw  me  into  tears,  by  driving  off  a  sweet  and  heavy 
sleep ;  and  my  moistened  eyes  roll  about  ;^  and  again  the 
thought  in  my  bosom  turns  upon  Rhodanth^.  Cease, 
ye  envious  chatterers ;  for  I  did  not  cut  out  the  tongue 
of  Philomela;  and  do  ye  lament  Itylus  on  hills^  and 
moan  while  sitting  at  the  old  dwelling  of  Epops,  so  that 
I  may  sleep  a  little ;  and  perhaps  a  dream  will  come, 
that  shall  throw  me  into  the  arms  of  Bhodanthe. 

All  night  I  sigh  with  cares  of  love  opprest ; 

But  when  the  mom  indulges  balmy  rest, 

These  tittering  birds  their  noisy  matins  keep, 

Recall  my  sorrows  and  prevent  my  sleep. 

Cease,  envious  birds,  your  plaintive  tales  to  tell, 

I  ravish'd  not  the  tongue  of  Philomel. 

In  deserts  wild,  or  on  some  mountain's  brow, 

Pay  all  the  tributary  grief  you  owe 

To  Itys  in  an  elegy  of  woe. 

Me  leave  to  sleep ;  in  visionary  charms 

Some  dream  may  bring  Rhodanthe  to  my  arms. 

The  live-long  night  I  moan ;  but  when  the  mom 
Would  visit  with  short  sleep  mine  eyes  forlorn, 
The  swallows  twitter  round,  above,  below ; 
'  And  from  my  jaded  lids  the  tear-drops  flow, 

'  The  Greek  in  Jacobs'  text  is  ffTaXdoyra  ^vXacracrac,  But  the 
author  probably  wrote  oraXdovO'  iiXiooerai.' 


And  orbs  wet-dropping  keep  the  watch  of  woe. 

And  then  again  before  my  heart  is  brought 

Rhodanthe's  image  in  tumultuous  thought. 

Ill-natured  babblers,  cease.     Who  ever  said 

I  tore  the  tongue  from  Philomela's  head  ? 

Go  to  the  hills,  and  Itylus  bemoan, 

Or  sitting  on  the  Hoopoe's  rugged  throne, 

Spef^  out  your  sorrows,  that  of  ease  a  gleam 

May  on  me  fall ;  when,  should  there  come  a  dream, 

I  in  Rhodanthe's  arms  enclasp'd  may  seem.       G.  C.  S. 


I  am  not  fond  of  wine.  But  when  thou  wishest  me  to 
be  drunk,  do  thou,  first  tasting  (the  cup),  bring  it  to  me, 
and  I  receive  it.  For  if  thou  shalt  touch  it  with  thy 
lips,  it  is  not  easy  to  be  sober,  nor  to  escape  from  the 
sweet  cup-bearer.  For  the  cup  conveys  to  me  a  kiss 
from  thee,  and  it  tells  me  the  pleasure  it  has  received. 

Farewell  to  wine !  or,  if  thou  bid'st  me  sip, 

Present  the  cup,  more  honour'd,  from  thy  lip. 

Pour'd  by  thy  hand,  to  rosy  draughts  I  fly, 

And  cast  away  my  dull  sobriety. 

For,  as  I  drink,  soft  raptures  tell  my  soul, 

That  lovely  Glycera  has  kiss'd  the  bowl.  Bl. 

I  love  not  wine ;  but  thou  hast  power 

To  make  me  drunk  at  any  hour. 

Touch  first  the  cup  with  thine  own  lip, 

Then  hand  it  round  for  mine  to  sip, 

And  temperance  at  once  gives  way ; 

My  sweet  cup-bearer  wins  the  day. 

That  cup's  a  boat  which  ferries  over 

Thy  kiss  in  safety  to  thy  lover, 

And  tells  by  its  delicious  flavour. 

How  much  it  revels  in  thy  favour.         G.  C.  S. 


Never  may  you,  the  wick  of  a  lamp,  produce  wick^ 
fungi,^  nor  call  up  rain,  lest  you  stop  my  bridegroom's 

»  There  is  no  single  word  in  English  to  express  the  Greek  mvkijCi  as 


coming.  You  are  ever  jealous  of  Venus;  for  when 
Hero  united  herself  to  Leander — ^the  rest,  O  soul,  omit — 
you  were  a  partaker  in  the  rites  of  Vulcan ;  and  I  be- 
lieve it;  since  to  annoy  Venus,  *you  flatter  the  pain  of 
the  master.^ 


A.  Why  dost  tiiou  sigh?  A  I  am  in  love.  A.  With. 
whom  ?  i?.  A  maiden.  A,  Is  she  beautiful  ?  B.  She 
seemed  beautiful  to  my  eyes.  A.  Where  did  you  be- 
come acquainted  with  her  1  B,  1  went  to  a  supper,  and 
I  saw  her  there  reclining  on  a  couch  common  to  both  of 
us.  A.  Did  you  expect  to  gain  her?  ^.  Yes,  yes, 
friend.  But  1  am  seeking  a  friendship  not  open,  but 
concealed.  A.  You  are  avoiding  rather  a  lawftd  mar- 
riage. ^I  know  full  well  that  of  possessions  the  portion 
that  is  left  is  much.^  B.  You  know  it  ?  A.  You  are 
not  in  love ;  you  have  told  a  falsehood.  For  how  is  the 
soul  able  to  be  mad  with  love,  that  reasons  correctly  ? 


Do  you  too,  Philinna,  suffer  from  desire  ?  Are  you 
too  ill,  wasted  away  with  eyes  dried  up  ?  Or  do  you 
enjoy  slumber  most  sweet,  while  of  my  cares  no  account 
or  number  is  taken  ?  Perhaps  you  wiU  find  an  equal 
fate;  and  I  shall  behold  the  cheek  of  you  unenvied, 
moistened  with  many  tears.  For  Venus  is  in  other  re- 
spects of  an  iU-temper ;  but  she  has  obtained  by  lot  one 
good  thing,  to  hate  women  who  give  themselves  airs. 


Hastening  to  know  whether  Ereutho  with  beautiful 
eyes  loved  me,  I  tried  her  heart  with  a  fiction  of  a 

applied  to  the  excrescence  in  the  wick  of  a  candle  or  lamp;  which 
was  anciently  considered  a  sign  of  coming  rain,  as  shown  by  Aristoph. 
^rjK,  Ys.  262,  and  Virgil  G.  i.  390,  quoted  by  Jacobs. 

^ — *  How  the  lamp  could  do  so,  it  is  not  easy  to  understand,  much  less 

a — 3  Even  Jacobs  has  failed  to  unfold  the  meaning  of  the  words  be- 
tween the  numerals. 

Edwards's  selection.  257 

profitable  kind.  I  shall  go/  (said  I,)  to  a  foreign  land ; 
but  do  you  remain  a  steady  girl,  and  preserve  the 
remembrance  of  my  love.  When  she  grieved  greatly 
and  was  excited,  and  struck*  her  own  face,  and  tore  the 
grape-like  (knot)  of  her  well-plaited  hair,  and  begged 
me  to  stay.  And  I,  as  a  person  slow  of  persuasion,  ex- 
pressed by  a  nod,  with  a  face  full  of  airs,  that  I  would 
stay.'  (And)  happy  am  I  in  my  love.  For  that  which 
I  was  eager  to  accomplish  by  aU.  means,*  I  conceded  as* 
a  great  favour. 

In  wayward  mood  by  artiAce  I  strove 

To  try  the  fervour  of  my  Helen's  love : 

And,  "  Oh  farewell,  my  dearest  girl,"  I  cried, 

"  Forget  me  not,  when  seas  and  lands  divide." 

Pale  at  the  news,  she  wept,  and  in  despair 

Her  forehead  struck,  and  tore  her  silken  hair ; 

And  sigh'd,  "  Forsake  me  not."  By  sorrow  prest 

I  nod  compliance  With  her  fond  request ; 

I  yield  by  generous  selfishness  inspired, 

And  hardly  grant  her  what  I  most  desired.         Bl. 

I  long'd  to  try  Ereutho's  heart, 

If  me  alone  she  loved, 
And  by  a  sleight  of  crafty  art 

My  doubts  I  thus  removed. 
"  I  go  to  foreign  lands,"  I  said, 

"  Be  constant  aye  to  me ; 
And  ne'er  foi^et,  my  lovely  maid. 

The  love  I  bear  to  thee." 
She  started,  shriek'd,  her  forehead  smote, 

And  her  locks  of  clustering  hair 
She  scatter'd,  and — "  Oh !  leave  me  not," 

She  cried  with  frantic  air. 

'  Jacobs  refers  opportunely  to  Terence,  Eunuch.  II.  i.  107,  "Rus 
ibo —  Noctes  diesque  ames  me ;  me  desideres." 

*  One  would  expect  here  rrjUt  **  ^^  wet,"  instead  of  irX^ff — 

'  In  lieu  of  uivov,  the  sense  evidently  requires  fUPiiv,  Ck)mpare 
Eurip.  Iph.  T.  1298,  mvtv</  diroarrivai :  and  Aristoph.  Babylon.  Fr. 
iKvtmi  fti  0€vyeiv.  Homer  II.  i.  616,  vevat — eropsacu — \bxoq.  Suid.  in 
TIpo(ravari9iis — ^'O  Sk — Karkvivae  froitiantv. 

**  *  Here  both  the  sense  and  syntax  require  wdvrtoQ,  «c — ^not  vdvnav, 



Then  I,  like  one  full  loth  to  brook 

Entreaty,  answer'd — "Nay ;" 
But  yet  my  faltering,  down-cast  look 

Declared  that  I  would  stay. 
How  happy  is  my  love !  since  she 

Should  thankfully  receive, 
What  was  to  happy,  happy  me, 

The  greatest  bliss  to  give.  Hat. 

CCCII.    THE  SAME.  * 

'*  Nothing  too  much  " — a  wise  man  said ;  but  I,  being 
an  object  of  love,  and  beautiful,  was  lifted  up  by  my 
high  thoughts,  and  I  fancied  that  in  my  hands  lay  the 
whole  life  of  the  maiden,  who  was  perchance  gainful.^ 
But  she  was  lifted  up  still  more,  and  held  up  her 
haughty  eve-brow,  as  if  finding  fault  with  her  former 
conduct.  And  now  I,  who  was  the  stem-looking,  the  iron- 
(hearted),  the  slowly-persuaded,  the  former  flyer  in  the 
air,  fell  on  a  sudden,  and  all  things  have  become 
changed ;  and  falling  at  the  knees  of  the  maiden,  I  cried 
out — "  Be  kind-hearted;  it  was  my  youth  that  erred." 


There  is  not  so  great  a  labour  to  young  men,  as  there 
comes  upon  us  females  with  a  tender  soul.  For  to 
them  there  are  equals  in  age,  to  whom  they  tell  the 
anguish  of  cares  with  the  language  of  confidence,  and 
they  attend  to  pastimes  that  soothe  them,  and  they 
wander  in  the  streets,  lounging  amongst  coloured .  pic- 
tures. But  for  us  it  is  not  lawftil  to  look  even  upon  the 
light  of  day ;  and  we  are  hidden  in  the  house,  wasted 
away  with  dark  thoughts. 

Go,  idle,  amorous  boys  ; 
What  are  your  cares  and  joys. 
To  love  that  swells  the  longing  virgin's  breast  ? 

*  Jacobs  considers  this  Epigram  as  a  continuation  of  the  preceding. 

'  In  lieu  of  the  unintelligible  ttjc  rdxa  KtpSaXkijQy  one  would  prefer 
rate  Tix^oKepScikkais,  1.  e.  x^P^'h  ^  allusion  to  ir\d<xfAari  ccp^oXly  in  the 
precedijig  Epigram. 

Edwards's  selection^  259 

A  flame  half-bid  in  doubt, 

Soon  kindled,  soon  burnt  out, 
A  blaze  of  momentary  beat  at  best. 

Haply  you  well  may  find, 

Proud  privilege  oi  your  kind. 
Some  friend  to  sbfu*e  the  secret  of  your  heart ; 

Or,  if  your  inbred  grief 

A^nit  of  much  relief, 
The  dance,  the  chase,  the  play  assuage  your  smart 

Whilst  we  poor  hapless  maids, 

Condemn'd  to  pine  in  shades. 
And  to  our  dearest  friends  our  thoughts  deny, 

Can  only  sit  and  weep, 

While  ail  around  us  sleep, 
Unpitied  languish,  and  unheeded  die. 

J.  H.  M. 

Ah  !  youths  never  know  the  weight  of  care 

That  delicate-spirited  women  must  bear. 

For  conu^es  of  cheery  speech  have  they, 

To  blandish  the  woes  of  thought  away  ; 

With  games  they  can  cheat  the  hours  at  home  ; 

And  whenever  abroad  in  the  streets  they  roam. 

With  the  colours  of  painting  they  glad  themselves. 

But  as  for  us  poor  prisoned  elves, 

We  are  shut  out  from  sunlight,  buried  in  rooms. 

And  fretted  away  by  our  fancy's  glooms.       G.  C.  S. 


A  Bacchante,  not  skilled  in  shaking  thfe  cymbals  with 
her  hand,  has  a  stone-cutter  placed  in  a  modest  state. 
For  thus  she  hangs  forward,  and  is  like  to  a  female  call- 
ing out  this — "Go  away;  and  I  will  sound  when  no 
one  is  standing  by." 


Hippolytus  is  addressing  haxsh  language  in  the  ear 
of  an  old  woman ;  but  we  are  unable  to  near  it.     But 

8  2 


as  far  as  one  may  understand  from  the  eye  of  a  person 
enraged,  he  is  giving  this  *  order — "  Say  ^  no  more  what 
is  not  right." 



Is  your  reed,  O  little  satjrr,  sending  forth  a  so\md  of  its 
own  accord  ?  Or  why  have  you  thus  inclined  your  ear  to 
the  reed  ?  But  he  snules  and  is  silent.  Perhaps  he  would 
have  spoken  a  word ;  but  through  his  delight  he  is  kept 
in  a  state  of  forgetfulness.  For  it  is  not  the  wax  (of  the 
picture)  that  prevents  him.  But  he  willingly  loves 
silence,  while  delighting '  his  whole  soid  by  being  en- 
gaged on  the  instrument. 


Yield  to  me/  thou  holy  hill-top  of  Daphn^,  that 
liest  away  from  the  sea,  the  beauty  of  a  desert  spot 
where  rustics  dwell.  For  here  are  Nymphs,  that  pre- 
side over  trees,  and  the  Nereids  have  made  their  common 
place  of  meeting  near  the  sea.  For  they  have  contended 
about  me.  And  (Neptune)  the  god  with  azure  hair  has 
acted  as  judge,  and  placed  me  as  a  boundary  between 


O  city,  where  are  thy  famous  *  walls  ?  Where  the 
temples  of  much  wealth?  Where  the  heads  of  the 
slaughtered  oxen?  Where  the  myrrh-boxes  of  the 
Paphian  (Venus)  ?  and  her  upper  garment  all  gold  ?  and 

*  The  Greek  is  (irn,  vainly  defended  by  Dorville  on  Chariton,  p.  587. 
The  poet  wrote  rovro — 

'  Although  Xkyeiv  might  perhaps  stand — for  the  infinitive  is  sometimes 
put  for  the  imperative— yet  one  would  prefer — Xsyi, 

'  Heyne  properly  proposed  repypag  for  rpkxl/a^,  vainly  defended  by 

^  This  is  supposed  by  Jacobs  to  be  spoken  by  the  personified  garden  of 
Justinian,  near  the  temple  of  Juno. 

*  The  sense  evidently  requires  KXtivd  in  lieu  of  Kiiva —  On  kXeivos 
applied  to  cities,  see  Valckenaer  on  Phoen.  1746. 

Edwards's  selection.  261 

where  the  image  of  the  indigenous  ^  Triton-bom 
(Pallas)  ?  All  hath  the  bustle  (of  War),  and  the  flow  of 
Time,  and  powerful  Fate  seized  upon,  throwing  round 
thee  a  strange  kind  of  misfortune.  And  so  much  has 
grievous  Envy  subdued  thee ;  but  thy  name  alone  ^  and 
glory  it  is  not  able  to  hide. 

O  city,  where  are  those  walls  of  thine, 
And  thy  temples  rich  with  slaughtered  kine  ? 
And  where  are  the  perfumes,  the  vest  of  gold, 

That  the  Paphian  queen  adorn  ? 
And  where  the  image,  thou  hadst  of  old, 

Of  thy  native  Triton«bom  ? 
The  toils  of  War,  and  the  ruins  of  Time,  and  the  might  of 

Have  seiz'd  on  all,  and  brought  in  their  stead  far  different 

hap  to  thee. 
Thus  far  bitter  Envy  halh  conquer'd  thee. 

But  alone  survives  thy  name ; 
And  Envy  itself  shall  conquer'd  be  j 

For  it  cannot  hide  thy  fame*  E.  S. 

Where,  hapless  city,  are  thy  walls  renown'd  ? 

Where  in  rich  temples  heads  of  victim'd  kine? 
Where  the  rose  ointments  for  thy  Venus  found  ? 

And  where  her  vest,  that  once  all  gold  did  shine  ? 
And  where  the  likeness  of  the  Triton-bom 

In  tapestry  woven  ?     All  hath  War  and  Strife, 
And  flow  of  Time,  and  stroiig  Fate  from  thee  torn. 

And  round  thee  thrown  a  stranger's  lot  and  life. 
Thee  hostile  Envy  has  o'ercome.     Thy  name 
And  glory  it  can't  hide,  that  still  remain.  G.  B. 

If  thou  art  descended  from  Sparta,  stranger,  do  not 
laugh :  for  not  upon  me  alone  has  Misfortune  brought 

*  Although  IvSdniog  is  found  in  the  other  writers  of  this  age,  yet  the 
deity,  who  was  bom  near  the  stream  of  the  river  Triton,  as  we  learn  from 
.^Ischylus,  in  Eum.  291,  could  not  be  a  native  of  Corinth.  Hence  there 
is  no  doubt  an  error  in  Manirig,  which  it  is  easy  to  correct  by  read- 
ing iv  SawitTiv — 

'  Jacobs  vainly  endeavours  to  defend  &pa  piovvov  by  passages  not  In 
point.    He  should  have  suggested— 5p',  &  fjitlvtv — 


this  to  pass.  But  if  from  Asia,  do  not  weep  :  for  all  the 
city  of  the  sons  of  -iEneas  has  nodded'  by  Dardan 
sceptres.  But  though  the  envious  war  of  hostile  (bands) 
has  made  empty  the  holy  groves  of  the  gods,  and  my 
walls,  and  the  dwellers  th^ein,  I  am  again  a  queen ; 
and  do  you,  O  fearless  Rome,  my  child,  place  upon  the 
Greeks  the  yoke-harness  of  thy  justice. 

CCCX.      ETON  EXTRACTS,   70  EP. 
CCOXI.      WESTMINSTER,  4  BOOK,  18  EP. 

Nature,  herself  the  modeller,  has  given  to  you,  O 
painter,  the  power  to  represent  the  f  ierian  (Muse)  of 
Mitylen^.  The  trtosparency  of  her  eyes  is  like  that  of 
a  fountain,  and  this  clearly  marks  a  fancy  full  of  a  suc- 
cessful aiming ;  and  the  flesh,  which  is  naturally  smooth 
and  not  laboriously  luxuriant,^  has  the  ease  (of  style) 
portrayed  bjr  it ;  and  from  her  countenance,  mixed  up 
with  what  is  joyous  and  intellectual,  she  proclaims  a 
Muse  united  to  Venus. 

Nature  herself  this  i^aagic  portrait  drew, 
And,  painter,  gave  thy  Lesbian  Muse  to  view. 
Light  sparkles  in  her  eyes  ;  and  Fancy  seems 
The  radiant  fountain  of  those  living  beams  ; 
Through  the  smooth  fulness  of  the  unclouded  skin, 
Looks  out  the  clear  ingenuous  soul  within. 
Joy  melts  to  fondness  in  her  glistening  face, 
And  Love  and  Music  breathe  a  mingled  grace. 

F.  H. 


Neither  is  the  rose  in  need  of  a  garland,  nor  art  thou, 
adorable  maiden,  of  an  outer  garment,  nor  a  head-dress 

^  How  Troy  could  be  said  to  have  nodded  to  its  fall  by  the  Dardan 
sceptres  of  the  sons  of  iSneas,  it  is  difficult  to  understand.  Hence  it  is 
evident  the  poet  wrote  7ra<x*  avivsiKif  "  has  entirely  recovered —  **  not 
Trdtra  vsvsvKt-^ 

^  In  lieu  of  Ko\&<Ta,  which  Brunck  would  correct  into  Xix&aaf  and 
Jacobs  into  xaXcSffa,  the  sense  seems  to  require  KOfxiaaa — 

Edwards's  selection.  263 

set  with  precious  stones.  Gems  fade  before  thy  colour ; 
nor  does  gold  impart  splendotir,  when  thy  hair  is  not  to 
be  combed.*  The  Indian  hyacinth  possesses  the  beauty 
of  a  dark  splendour,  but  far  inferior  to  thine  eyes ;  and 
thy  dewy  lips,  and  the  honey-mingled  harmony  of 
manners  is  the  cestus  of  the  Paphian  (Venus).  By  all 
these  I  am  subdued ;  by  the  eyes  alone  am  I  soothed,  in 
which  there  dwells  honey-dropping  hope. 

We  ask  no  flowers  to  crown  the  blushing  rose, 

Nor  glittering  gems  thy  beauteous  form  to  deck. 
The  pearl,  in  Persia's  precious  gulf  that  glows, 

Yields  to  the  dazzling  whiteness  of  thy  neck. 
Gold  adds  not  to  the  lustre  of  thy  hair, 
But,  vanquish'd,  sheds  a  fainter  radiance  there. 
The  Indian  hyacinth's  celestial  hue 

Shrinks  from  the  bright  effulgence  of  thine  eye, 
The  Paphian  cestus  bathed  thy  lips  in  dew, 

And  gave  thy  form  ambrosial  harmony. 
My  soul  would  perish  in  the  melting  gaze, 
But  for  thine  eyes,  where  hope  for  ever  plays.    Bl. 

No  ^land  needs  the  rose  ;  nor  thou,  my  fair, 
That  gem-bespangled  net-work  for  thy  hair.    . 
On  thee  that  robe  is  but  an  useless  cost. 
Who  art,  "  when  unadom'd,  adorn'd  the  most." 
Thy  skin  bedims  the  pearl ;  and  dim  the  glare 
Of  gold  beside  thy  wild  luxuriant  hair. 
The  Indian  gem  its  flaming  grace  may  prize, 
But  pale  its  lustre  when  before  thine  eyes. 
Thy  dewy  lips,  harmonious  form  and  soul, 
Honey'd  as  Venus*  zone,  thy  perfect  whole, 
O'erwhelm  me  all ;  thine  eyes  alone,  my  fair, 
In  their  soft  language  bid  me  not  despair.       Hat, 

No  wreath  the  rose  doth  need  to  grace  her  brow ; 
No  broider'd  robe  nor  jewell'd  head-dress  thou. 
Not  whitest  pearl  can  with  thy  skin  compare. 
Nor  gold  so  bright  as  thy  loose  flowing  hair. 

*  Such  is  the  meaning  assigned  to  &voKTrjTov,  from  which  it  is  easy  to 
eUcit  &ir  ihvrirov,  **  well-plaited — ** 


The  loveliest  hyacinth  of  Indian  fields 

To  thy  full-beaming  pupil's  lustre  yields. 

That  dewy  lip,  that  form  of  melting  mould, 

Thy  magic  girdle,  Venus,  here  behold. 

All  these  undo  me ;  only  in  thine  eyes 

Comfort  I  find ;  there  sweet  hope  ever  lies.         G.  S. 


From  the  time  when  Chariclo,  while  laughing  ^nd 
talking  to  me,  as  I  was  drinMng,  put  round  me  her  own 
garland  secretly,  a  destructive  fire  has  been  devouring 
me ;  for  the  garland  had,  as  I  fancy,  something  which, 
burnt  up  likewise  Glauc^,  the  daughter  of  Creon.* 


Alas !  alas !  Envy  wards  oS  the  honey-sweet  talk,  and 
the  look  of  the  eyes,  which  speak  in  secret.*  And  stand- 
ing near,  we  are  astonished  at  the  look  of  the  old  woman, 
like  the  many-eyed  herdsman  (Argos)  of  (lo),  the 
daughter  of  Inacnus.  Stand  thou  and  keep  a  look-out ; 
but  in  vain  vex  thy  heart.  For  thou  canst  not  extend 
thine  eye  to  the  soul. 


Chrysis,  afler  plucking  a  single  hair  of  her  golden 
locks,  bound  my  hands,  like  those  of  a  wax-captive. 
And  I  at  first  laughed,  thinking  to  shake  oflF  easily  the 
chains  of  my  adored  Doris.  But  when  I  was  unable  to 
burst  through  them,  I  gave  a  groan,  as  if  riveted  to  a 
fetter  of  brass  not  to  be  loosened.  And  now,  thrice- 
wretched,  I  am  hung  by  a  hair,'  and  frequently  dragged, 
wherever  my  mistress  pulls  me. 

In  wanton  sport,  my  Doris  from  her  fair 
And  glossy  tresses  tore  a  straggling  hair  ; 

>  The  poet  alludes  to  Eurip.  Med.  1183. 

*  Jacobs  aptly  refers  to  Ovid's  expression,  "  Verba  superciliis  sine  Yoce 
loauentia  didam.'' 
'  Compare  Pope's  "  But  beauty  draws  ua  by  a  single  hair.** 

Edwards's  selection.  265 

And  bound  my  bands,  as  if  of  conquest  vain, 

And  I  some  royal  captive  in  ber  cbain. 

At  first  I  laugb'd— "  Tbis  fetter,  lovely  maid,   , 

Is  ligbtly  worn,  and  soon  dissolved,'*  I  said. 

I  said :  but  ab !  I  bad  not  leam'd  to  prove 

How  strong  tbo  fetters  tbat  are  forged  by  love. 

Tbat  little  tbread  of  gold,  I  strove  to  sever, 

Was  bound,  like  stee^  about  my  beart  for  ever ; 

And  firom  tbat  luckless  bour,  my  tyrant  fair 

Has  led  and  tum'd  me  by  a  single  bair.      J.  H.  M. 


I  swore  I  would  remain  tax  away  from  thee,  O  damsel 
fair,  to  the  twelfth  morning,  ye  gods.  But  I,  wretched^ 
could  not  endure  it ;  for  the  morrow  seemed  to  me,  I 
swear  by  thyself,  more  distant  than  the  twelfth  moon. 
But  beg,  my  dear,  of  the  gods  not  to  engrave  these  oaths 
on  the  back  of  the  page '  of  the  Furies  ;  and  do  thou 
soothe  my  mind  by  thy  favours,  lest  the  whip  ^  of  the 
blessed  (gods)  cause  a  wheal  upon  thee,  O  adored  one. 
Wben  I  left  tbee,  love,  I  swore 

Not  to  see  tbat  face  again 
For  a  fortnight's  space  or  more  ; 
But  the  cruel  oath  was  vain  ; 
Since  the  next  day  I  spent  from  tbee, 
Was  a  long  year  of  misery. 
Ob,  then,  for  thy  lover  pray 

Every  gentler  deity. 
Not  in  too  nice  scales  to  weigh 

His  constrained  perjury. 
Tbou,  too,  ob  pity  bis  despair ; 
Heayen's  rage  and  thine  be  cannot  bear.    J.  H.  M. 


They  say  that  a  man,  who  has  been  bitten  by  the 
maddening  poison  of  a  dog,  sees  the  image  of  a  wild 
beast  in  water.     And  perhaps  maddening  Love  has  fixed 

*  Jacobs  refers  to  Valckenaer  on  Herodot.  v.  58. 

«  On  the  whip  of  the  deities,  compare  Prom.  703,   Maortyt  Oel^. 


his  sharp  fang  in  me,  and  by  madness  despoiled  me  of  ^ 
my  mind.     For  thy  loved  image  does  the  sea  present  to 
me,  and  the  eddies  of  rivers,  and  the  cup  of  the  wine- 

They  say  that  one,  who  hath  chanced  to  suffer 

The  venomous  bite  of  a  rabid  hound. 
Will  see  a  creature  of  horrible  feature 

Imaged  on  all  the  waters  round. 
So  me  hath  rabid  Cupid  bitten. 

And  smitten  my  soul  with  his  raging  bane ; 
And  an  image  I  trace  on  the  river's  face. 

In  the  glistening  wine,  on  the  level  main. 
But  the  image  which  wakens  my  soul's  distress, 
Is  an  image  of  exquisite  loveliness.  G.  C.  S. 

Cleophantis  is  delapng  long,  and  the  third  wick  is  be- 
ginning already  to  sink  down,  wasted  away  slowly. 
Would  that  the  lamp  of  my  heart  were  extinguished 
with  the  wick,  and  that  it  had  not  been  burning  me  a 
long  time  by  sleepless  desires.  How  often  has  Hespe- 
rus sworn  that  Venus  would  come !  ^  But  she  has  no  re- 
gard for  men  or  gods. 


I,  who  formerly,  with  a  mind  not  to  be  sofl;ened,  did 
in  my  youth  disavow  the  pleasant  laws  of  the  madness- 
producing  Paphian  (deity) — I,  who  was  formerly  not  to 
be  approached  by  the  limb-devouring  darts  of  Love,  do 
now  bend  in  middle  age  my  neck  to  thee,  O  Venus. 
Receive  me  with  a  smile ;  because  thou  art  now  a  victor 
over  PaUas,  more  than  thou  wast  formerly  for  the  apple 
of  the  Hesperides. 

The  youth,  who,  with  unmitigated  mind. 
Inciting  Paphia's  gentle  sway  declined, 

*  This  is  scarcely  intelligible.  Opportunely  then  does  one  MS.  offer 
IXOtlv :  where  lies  hid  IskUiv — and  hence  one  would  prefer  d  w6<t  lu^ 
KvBepttav — to  &  7f6<ra  n)v  Kvdlpciay — ^for  thus  Diophantes  would  be 
called  Venus. 

Edwards's  selection.  267 

Who  proved  so  unassailable  when  blooming, 
And  set  at  nought  Love's  arrows,  limb-consuming, 
Now,  Cypris,  with  his  wise  head  frosted  over. 
Bends  low  to  thee  his  neck,  and  turns  a  lover. 
Take  me  and  laugh.     Thou  thwartest  Pallas  wise. 
E'en  more  than  when  she  lost  the  Hesperid  golden  prize. 

G.  C.  S. 
I,  who  with  heart  unsoflen'd  in  my  prime, 

Of  Venus,  bringing  madness,  spum'd  the  power — 
I,  whom  no  dart  could  reach  in  former  time 

Of  Love,  the  heart-consuming — in  the  hour 
Of  middle  age,  to  thee  my  neck  I  bow, 

O  Cyprian  queen !     Laugh,  and  receive  thy  slave ; 
More  is  thy  triumph  seen.o'er  Pallas  now. 

Then  when  the  Hesperian  apple  glory  gave.        G.  B. 


Does  thine  hair  a  head-dress  bind  ?  With  a  violent 
feeling  I  am  wasted  away,  on  beholding  the  likeness  of 
the  tower-bearing  Rhea.  Is  thy  head  without  a  cover- 
ing? By  the  auburn  colour  of  thy  tresses,  I  drive  from 
my  breast  my  mind,  that  has  melted  away.  Dost  thou 
conceal  thy  pendent  locks  with  a  white  veil  ?  A  fire  not 
less  intense  lays  hold  of  my  heart.  A  triad  of  Graces 
attend  upon  thy  triple  state ;  and  every  state  sends  forth, 
its  own  fire. 


Being  about  to  say  to  thee — "  Fare  thee  well  '* — I 
pull  back  again  the  voice,  so  as  to  return ;  and  again  I 
remain  near  thee.  For  I  shudder  at  the  terrible  dis- 
tance from  thee,  as  at  the  bitter  night  of  Acheron.  For 
thy  light  is  like  the  day ;  but  a  portion  of  it  is  voiceless ; 
do  thou,  then,  bring  the  prattling,  which  is  sweeter  than 
the  Sirens,  and  on  which  all  the  hopes  of  my  very  soul 

When  I  meant,  lovely  Ida,  to  bid  thee  farewell, 
My  faltering  voice  the  sad  office  denied ; 


From  my  lips  broken  accents  of  tenderness  fell, 

And  I  remain'd  motionless  close  by  thy  side. 
Nor  wonder,  sweet  girl,  at  the  baffled  endeavour  ; 

The  pang  of  the  moment,  that  tears  me  away. 
Can  only  be  equalled  by  that,  which  for  ever 

Shuts  out  from  my  soul  the  blest  prospect  of  day. 
Oh  !  Ida,  'tis  thou  art  my  day.     'Tis  to  thee 

I  look  for  the  light,  that  should  make  me  rejoice  ; 
Thy  presence  the  day-spring  of  pleasure 's  to  me  ; 

But  raptures  of  paradise  dwell  in  thy  voice. 
Thy  voice— oh !  how  sweeter  than  aught  that  is  feign'd 

Of  Sirens  or  Mermaids,  that  float  on  the  wave ; 
It  holds  all  my  joys,  all  my  passions  enchain'd, 

And  is  able  alike  to  destroy  me  or  save.    J.  H.  M. 


The  sea  washes  the  seats  on  the'  land;  and  the  back 
of  the  land,  although  sailed  over,  blooms  with  groves  in 
the  midst  of  the  sea.  How  clever  was  he,  who  mingled 
the  sea-deeps  with  the  land,  and  sea-weeds  with  garden- 
plants,  and  the  streams  of  the  Nereids  with  the  rills  of 
the  Naiads. 

This  lovely  spot  old  Ocean  laves, 

And  woody  coverts  fringe  the  waves. 

Happy  the  art,  that  could  dispose 

Whate'er  in  sea  or  garden  grows. 

And  summoned  to  the  enchanted  land 

The  Naiads'  and  the  Nereids'  band.         Bl. 

CCOXXrV.   WESTMINSTER,  2   BOOK,   72   EP. 

Here  strive  for  empire  o'er  the  happy  scene 

The  Nymphs  of  fountain,  sea,  and  woodland  green. 

The  power  of  grace  and  beauty  holds  the  prize, 

Suspended  even  to  her  votaries. 

And  finds  amazed,  where'er  she  casts  her  eye. 

Their  contest  forms  the  matchless  harmony.       Bl. 

*  This  too,  like  Ep.  307,  says  Jacobs,  was  written  on  tlie  gardens  of  the 
palace  of  Justinian. 


Between  the  Naiad,  Nereid,  Dryad  throngs 
A  strife  is  waged  to  which  the  spot  belongs ; 
Grace  umpire  sits,  the  question  to  decide  ; 
But  its  mix'd  charms  her  wavering  choice  divide. 

Fb.  Wranoham. 

cccxxv.  westminster,  2  book,  69  ep. 


Touch,  O  cup,  the  mouth  dropping  with  honey ;  you 
have  found  it;  draw  it,  like  milk ;  1  do  not  begrudge 
you ;  but  I  wish  I  had  your  lucky  fate. 


You  have  the  name  of  Libanus,  the  form  of  the 
Graces,  the  manners  of  Persuasion,  O  damsel,  and  the 
cestus  of  Venus  under  your  loins;  and  in  dances  you 
frolic,  like  a  light  Cupid,  drawing  to  you  all  (men)  by 
your  beauty  and  axt. 


The  Cytherean  (Venus)  loved  Anchises  and  the  Moon 
Endymion :  such  do  the  people  of  the  past  tell  in  tales. 
But  now  some  new  tale  will  be  sung,^  how  that  Victory 
has  fallen  in  love  with  the  looks  and  the  chariot  of 


Dionysus,  on  seeing  a  satyr,  having  so  great  ^  a  pain, 
and  pitying  him,  turned  him  into  stone.  But  even 
thus  he  did  not  cease  from  pains  hard  to  be  borne.  For 
still  does  he  suflfer,  the  hapless  one,  although  he  is  a 

'  As  Ailfftrai  is  not  elsewhere  found  in  a  passive  sense,  the  poet  pro- 
bably wrote  VBOv  rig  fivOov,  not  vsog  Tig  fivOoQ — 

'  The  pain,  says  Heyne,  was  probably  from  a  thorn  that  had  stuck  iu 
the  foot.    How  strange  he  should  not  have  proposed  iroaiv  for  t6<xov — 



Did  you,  Hippomenes,  throw  this  golden  prize  to  the 
damsel,  as  a  marriage-gift,  or  to  delay  her  speed  ?  The 
apple  has  accomplished  both  purposes;  since  it  with- 
drew the  maiden  from  her  rapid  movement,  and  was  the 
symbol  of  the  yoke  of  Venus. 


It  was  possible  to  hear  clearly  Pan  playing  on  the 
pipe ;  for  the  moulder  had  mixed  up  breath  with  the 
form.  But  (Pan),  on  seeing  Echo  flying  away,  stands  * 
not  knowing  what  to  do,  (and)  he  has  refused  (to  give) 
the  useless  voice  of  the  pipe. 


A,  To-morrow  I  will  see  thee.  B.  That  (morrow)  is 
never  mine,  while  your  habit  of  putting  off  is  ever  in- 
creasing. In  this  way  alone  do  you  gratify  my  longing ; 
but  to  others  you  grant  other  favours,  disowning  my 
confidence  in  you.  A.  At  evening  I  will  see  thee.  B. 
What  is  a  woman's  evening  ?  It  is  old  age  filled  with 
wrinkles  without  measure. 


A.  Why  is  thy  sword  drawn  from  the  sheath  ?  B, 
(I  swear)  by  thyself,  maiden,  it  is  that  I  may  not  do  any 
act  foreign  to  Venus,  but  that  I  may  show  how  Mars, 
although  hot  with  rage,  is  obedient  to  gentle  Venus. 
This  is,  while  I  am  in  love,  my  fellow-traveller ;  nor  do 
I  want  ^  mirror ;  ^but  in  it  I  see  myself,  how  beautiful 

*  Since  aararov  is  plainly  superfluous  after  ^ivyovaav,  it  is  probable 
that  the  poet  wrote  iVrarat. 

* — ^  Such  is  the  literal  translation  of  the  Greek,  nal  Kokhq  wf  Iv  ipwri. 
But  the  youth  would  scarcely  thus  bepraise  himself.  The  poet  would 
rather  have  put  the  compliment  into  the  mouth  of  the  damsel,  by  writing 
— frai,  KoXbg  larov  Iptari — 


(I  am)  in  love;*  yet  should  you  release  yourself  from 
me,^  the  sword  ynJl  sink  into  my  side. 

A,  Why  from  its  sheath  is  drawn  thy  sword  ?  B,l  swear, 
By  thee,  to  do  no  wrong  to  Love,  my  fair. 
"Hs  but  to  show  how  Mars,  with  fury  wild. 
By  gentle  Venus  soften'd,  is  a  child. 
While  in  Love's  paths  I  tread,  it  sticks  to  me. 
I  want  no  mirror.     Here  myself  I  see. 

A.  Handsome,  as  Love,  boy,  turn  from  me  aside 

The  sword.     B,  Then  in  my  breast  itself  shall  hide. 

G.  B. 


Thou  art,  Parmenis,  (constant)  not  in  deed.  On  hear- 
ing thy  name  I  thought  it  beautiful ;  but  thou  art  more 
bitter  than  death ;  and  thou  flyest  from  one,  who  laves, 
and  pursuest  another,  who  does  not  love,  until  thou  flyest 
again  from  him,  even  when  he  is  in  love.  *  Yet  is  thy 
mouth  naturally  a  hook,  fvdl  of  points ;  and  as  soon  as 
I  bite,  it  holds  me  fast,  hanging  from  thy  rosy  lip.* 

Ruthless  to  me  as  death,  in  sound  how  fair, 
Liconstant  Constance,  is  the  name  you  bear ! 
Beloved,  you  fly ;  not  courted,  you  pursue, 
That  you  may  fly  again,  when  loved  anew.        H.  W. 


I  have  not  wished  for  gold  and  ten  thousand  cities  of 
the  earth,  nor  what  Homer^  says  that  Thebes  possessed ; 
but  that  the  round  cup  might  bubble  with  Lyaeus 
(wine),  while  its  lip  is  washed  with  an  ever-flowing 

^  The  Vat.  MS.  has  <r^  S*  rjv  &t  I/ibio  \v6rivai,  which,  as  being  with- 
out sense  or  syntax,  Planudes  altered  into — \v6eific,  not  knowing  that  ^v 
— \v9tirig  is  a  barbarism,  vainly  defended  by  Schaefer  in  Meletem.  Crit. 
p.  87.     Perhaps  the  poet  wrote,  <rd  Keiv  &if  kfiov  TdXi  reivov  lb  ^i<f>OQ, 

B.  ^fttrkpfiv —  Meineke,  preserving,  in  other  respects,  the  common  read- 
ings, would  merely  change  \v9tiris  into  XutaByg,  referring  to  Buttman's 
Lexilog.  p.  72.. 

* — ^  This  distich  Jacobs  justly  considers  to  be  quite  .irrelevant. 
»  In  IX.  I.  381. 

272  obeeb:  anthology. 

stream,  of  ^  whicli  (cup)  the  talkative  choir  of  old  men 
have  drunk  together;  ^but  the  clever  men  labour,  as 
workers  at  vines.^  (May)  this  loved  happiness  ever 
(be)  to  me  in  great  quantity ;  and  I  care  not  for  the 
golden  Consuls,  while  I  hold  fast  the  flask. 


I  ask  not  gold ;  I  ask  not  power ; 

I  never  pra/d  great  Jove  to  shower 

On  me  the  wealth  that  Homer  sings, 

The  grandeur  of  the  Theban  kings. 

I  shall  be  well  contented,  so 

My  cup  with  ceaseless  bumpers  flow, 

NAnd  my  moist  lips  for  ever  shine 

In  honour  of  the  god  of  wine. 

And  friends,  who  share  my  inmost  soul, 

Share  likewise  in  the  fragrant  bowL 

But  let  the  grave  and  dull  possess 

Their  toil-won  wealth,  short  happiness. 

These  are  my  riches ;  these  IT!  love, 

As  long  as  I'm  allowed  by  Jove. 

For  while  the  sparkling  bowl  I  drain, 

The  boasts  of  pride  and  pomp  are  vain.     J.  H.  M, 


We,  who  drink  without  drawing  breath,  the  com- 
batants belonging  to  king  lacchus,  will  arrange  the  acts 
of  the  carousal,  where  cups  form  the  fight,  and  make  big 
libations  from  the  unsparing  gifts  of  thte  Icarian  Lyaeus 
(Bacchus).  To  others  let  uie  glories  of  Triptolemus  be 
a  care ;  where  are  oxen,  and  ploughs,  and  the  pole  be- 
tween the  oxen,  and  the  handle  (of  the  plough-share), 
and  the  corn-field,  and  the  foot-prints  of  the  snatched 
away  Proserpine.  But  if  there  is  ever  a  necessitv  to  put 
any  food  into  the  mouth,  the  dried  raisin  of  Bromius 
(the  vine)  is  sufficient  for  wine-drinkers. 

*  In  lieu  of  icai,  which  couples  nothing,  the  sense  and  syntax  re- 
quire ^v. 

a_2  Such  is  the  literal  version  of  the  Greek  text ;  where  however 
there  is  scarcely  a  word,  as  written  by  the  author. 

Edwards's  selection.  373 


By  me,  who  was  ill  yesterday,  there  stood  a  physician, 
no  friendly  person,  who  forbade  the  nectar  of  cups ;  and 
told  me,  the  vain  fellow,  to  drink  water ;  nor  had  he 
learnt  that  Homer  says^  that  wine  is  the  strength  of  man. 


Ye  men,  to  whom  the  orgies  of  Bacchus,  who  is  with- 
out pain,  are  a  care,  through  the  hopes  which  the  vine 
produces,^  throw  away  poverty.  To  me  let  the  cup  be  a 
crater ;  and  near  me  a  wine-press,  not  a  keg,  the  dwell- 
ing of  smooth-faced  joyousness ;  and  straightway,  after 
drinking  a  large  goblet  of  our  LyaBus  (wine)  I  will  fight, 
if  you  wish  it,  with  the  Canastraean^  youths.  I  fear  not 
the  sea  that  is  not  to  be  soothed,  nor  the  thunderbolts, 
while  possessing  the  confident  boldness  of  fearless  Bro- 



If  hopes,  the  friends  of  misfortune,  play  with  the  life 
of  mortals,  by  gratifying  the  whole  of  it  in  a  delaying 
manner,  I,  since  I  am  a  mortal,  am  played  upon,  and 
well  do  I,  a  man,  know  I  am  mortal.  But  being  played 
upon  by  protracted  hopes,  I  am  pleased  with  myself 
willingly,  although  wandering;  nor  may  I  become,  as. 
regards  my  judgment,  a  severe  Aristode.  For  I  pre- 
serve in  my  mind  the  exhortation  of  Anacreon — "  It  is 
not  meet  to  keep  hold  of  care." 


Why,  Venus,  hast  thou  driven  three  arrows  against  a 
single  target  ?  and  (why)  are  these  arrows  fixed  in  one 
soul  ?  With  one  I  am  burnt ;  with  another  I  am  drawn 
along;   and  by  another  I  am  in  doubt  to  what  point 

»  In  IX.  Z.  261. 

*  So  Horace  says  of  wine  that  "  spes  jubet  esse  ratas,"  quoted  by 

»  The  Giants,  so  called  from  Canastra,  a  town  of  Macedonia,  where, 
says  the  Scholiast  on  Lycophron,  v.  526,  the  Giants  dwelt. 



I  shall  incline ;  but  by  a  violent  flame  I  am  wholly 


After  placing  me  in  a  strange  port^  of  desires  how 
great,  thou  dost  not,  Venus,  pity  me,  although  thou  hast 
an  experience  thyself  of  troubles.  Dost  thou  wish  me 
to  suffer  things  not  to  be  borne,  and  to  say  this  word  ? — 
*^  Venus  alone  has  wounded  the  man  made  wise  through 
the  Muses." 


With  fire  and  snow,  and,  if  thou  wUt,  with  lightning 
strike  (me),  and  drag  me  to  precipices  and  to  seas ;  for 
him,  who  has  become  faint-hearted  by  troubles,  and  is 
subdued  by  Love,  not  even  the  fire  of  Jove,  when  hxirled 
against  him,  can  wear  down. 


Poverty  and  Love  are  my  two  iUs.  The  one  I  can 
bear  easily ;  but  the  fire  of  Venus  I  cannot  support. 

Two  evils,  Want  and  Love,  my  spirits  tame : 

The  hunger  I  can  bear,  but  not  the  flame.       H.  W. 


There  are  three  Graces ;  but  thou  hast  been  bom  one 
more  to  those  three,  in  order  that  the  Graces  might  have 
a  grace. 

Three  are  the  Graces.     Thou  wert  bom  to  be 
The  Grace,  that  serves  to  grace  the  other  three. 

H.  W. 


Cyprus  must  now  two  Venuses  adore  ; 
Ten  are  the  Muses  ;  and  the  Graces  four. 
So  charming  Flavia's  wit,  so  sweet  her  face. 
She 's  a  new  Muse,  a  Venus,  and  a  Grace. 


*  Instead  of  Xi/ilva  ^kvov,  Jacobs  would  read  Xc/iiy  a|cvov— i.  e.  "  an 
inhospitable  port.** 


CCCXLVL    WESTMINSTER,    1    BOOK,   2   EP. 


Just  now,  O  dearest  lamp,  thou  hast  sneezed  *  thrice. 
Surely  thou  foretellest  that  my  detectable  Antigon^  will 
perhaps  come  to  a  marriage  bed.  Should  this  turn  out 
true,  thou  too  wilt  be,  like  king  Apollo,  a  prophet  on  a 
tripod  to  mortals. 


Whether  I  behold  thee  shining  with  thy  dark  locks, 
or  on  the  other  hand,  (my)  queen  with  auburn  ringlets, 
beauty  shines  equally  from  both.  Surely  in  such  tresses, 
even  when  gray.  Love  will  dwell. 

Whether  thy  locks  in  jetty  radiance  play, 

Or  golden  ringlets  o'er  thy  shoulder  stray. 

There  Beauty  shines,  sweet  maid ;  and  should  they  bear 

The  snows  of  age,  still  Love  would  linger  there. 

J.  H.  M. 

If,  Venus,  thou  savest  those  at  sea,  save  thou  me  too,  a 
friend,  shipwrecked  on  land  (and)  lost. 

Venus,  who  sav'st  at  sea,  0  lend  a  hand, 

Dear  goddess  ;  for  I  'm  shipwrecked  on  dry  land. 

H.  W. 

Sweet  myrrh  to  thee  I  send ;  to  myrrh  a  favour  grant- 
ing, not  to  thee  ;  for  thou  art  able  to  impart  to  myrrh 
the  flavour  of  myrrh. 

I  send  to  thee  sweet  myrrh,  administering  myrrh  to 
myrrh,  like  a  person  making  a  libation  of  ^he  stream  of 
Bacchus  to  Bacchus. 

*  On  the  act  of  sneezing,  applied  to  a  lamp,  Jacobs  refers  appositely 
to  Ovid.  Heroid.  Epist.  xix.  *'  Sternuit  et  lumen,  posito  nam  scribimus 
illo,  sternuit,  et  nobis  prospera  signa  dedit." 

T  2 



O  thou  round,  well-turned,  one-eared,  long-necked>* 
guggling  with  a  narrow  mouth,  the  joyous  servant  of 
Jbacchus  and  the  Muses  and  Venus,  sweetly-smiling, 
the  delightful  dispenser  at  jointly-paicj  (revels),  why, 
when  I  am  sober,  art  thou  drunk  ?  but,  when  I  am 
drunk,  art  thou  sober  ?  Thou  doest  a  wrong  to  fi^ow- 
drinking  friendship. 


Do  not  grant  to  stone  pillars  (over  the  grave),  as  a 
favour,  myrrh  and  garlands;  nor  light  up  the  fire,* 
The  expense  is  in  vain.  Grant  me  the  favoxir,  while 
living;  but  by  intoxicating  the  ashes,  you  will  make  a 
puddle ;  the  dead  will  not  have  a  drop. 

Seek  not  to  glad  these  senseless  stones 

With  fragrant  ointments,  rosy  wreaths ; 
No  warmth  can  reach  our  mouldering  bones, 

From  lustral  fire,  that  vainly  breathes. 
Now  let  me  revel,  whilst  I  may ; 

Ttie  wine,  that  o'er  my  grave  is  shed. 
Mixes  with  earth  and  turns  to  clay  ; 

No  honours  can  delight  the  dead.  J.  H.  M. 


How  was  I  born  ?  Whence  am  I  ?  For  what  have  I 
come  ?  To  go  away  again.  How  can  I  learn  any  thing, 
knowing  nothing  ?  Being  nothing,  I  was  born.  I  shall 
be  again,  as  I  was  before.  The  race  of  voice-dividing 
(men)  is  nothing  and  nothing.^    But  come,  prepare  me 

*  To  avoid  the  tautology  in  v^l/avxiiv,  thus  following  ;MKporpax>|Xt, 
we  may  read  i  if/vm-^p — and  thus  recover  the  noun,  wanting  at  present 
for  all  the  adjectives. 

*  In  lieu  of  rd  vvp,  where  the  article  has  no  meaning,  one  would  pre- 
fer nvpAv — 

»  In  oifdkv  Kal  fttidlv  there  is  an  error  it  would,  perhaps,  be  not  difS- 
cult  to  correct. 


the  pleasure-loving  stream  of  Bacchus ;  for  this  medicine 
is  the  antidote  of  ills. 

Whence  was  I  bom,  and  how  ? 
How  was  I  bom,  and  why  ? 
Alas  1  I  nothing  know, 

But,  bom,  that  I  must  die. 
From  nothing  I  was  bom ; 
To  nothing  must  return. 
The  end  and  the  beginning 
Of  life  is  nothingness — 
Of  losing,  or  of  winning. 
Of  pleasure,  or  distress. 
Then  give  me  wine  at  least ; 
There 's  nought  left  but  to  feast.       J.  H.  M. 

How  bom,  and  where,  and  why  ?  To  go  I  came ; 

And  knowing  nothing,  nothing  learn  I  can. 
Nothing  I  was  when  bom  ;  and  still  the  same 

Notlung  shall  be.     Such  is  the  race  of  man. 
The  pleasure-loving  cup  of  Bacchus  fill ; 
'Tis  the  sole  antidote  for  every  HI.  6.  B. 


Having  erred  in  nothing,  I  was  begotten  by  my  pa- 
rents ;  and  after  being  born,  I  unhappy  go  to  Hades. 
Oh,  death-producing  intercourse  of  parents !  woe's  me  on 
account  of  the  Necessitv,  that  will  cau^e  me  to  come 
near  to  hateful  death.  *  [Being  nothing,  I  was  born ;  I 
shall  be  again  as  I  was  before.  The  race  of  voice-di^ 
viding  (men)  is  nothing  and  nothing.]  ^  Hand  me,  friend, 
what  remains  of  the  sparkling  cup,^  and  the  wine,  that 
is  the  oblivion  of  sorrows. 


Drink  and  be  merry.  What  to-morrow  or  the  future 
(will  be),  no  one  knows.     Do  not  run  (away)  ;  nor  be 

' — *  The  words  between  the  brackets  Jacobs  says  have  been  intro- 
duced from  the  preceding  Epigram. 

«  The  Greek  is  at  present  &iro<rri\ptatrov :  which  is  unintelligible.  It 
was  originally  dTrotrriXPuKrav — 


faint-hearted.  As  you  can,  ^gratify  yourself;  share 
(with  others) ;  eat ;  consider  things  as  mortal ;  ^  to  live 
differs  not  at  all  from  not  to  live.  The  whole  of  life  is 
of  this  kind ;  it  is  only  the  turn  of  a  scale.  If  you  an- 
ticipate it,  it  is  yours ;  if  you  die,  every  thing  is  an- 
other's, and  you  have  nothing. 

Drink  and  rejoice  ;  who  knows,  to-morrow, 

Whether  't  will  bring  us  joy  or  sorrow  ? 

Now,  while  you  may,  life's  blessing  share, 

With  the  jovial  and  the  fair. 

Shortly  may  thy  flickering  breath 

Be  tainted  by  the  blast  of  death. 

Such  is  life ;  a  moment's  space  ; 

And  it  leaves  an  empty  place. 

Seize  it,  ere  the  silent  tomb, 

Engulfing  thee,  gives  others  room.  Bl. 

Drink  and  be  merry.     What  the  morrow  brings, 
No  mortal  knoweth.     Wherefore  toil  or  run  ? 

Spend,  while  thou  may'st ;  eat ;  fix  on  present  things 
Thy  hopes  and  wishes ;  life  and  death  are  one. 

One  moment,  grasp  life's  goods  ;  to  thee  they  falL 

Dead,  thou  hast  nothing ;  and  another  all.  G.  S. 


She,  who  formerly  boasted  of  her  very  rich  lovers 
— she,  who  never  worshipped  the  terrible  goddess.  Ne- 
mesis, now  beats  for  wages  the  threads  with  a  poor  wea- 
ver's beam ;  and  AtWn^  ^  has,  though  late,  made  a  spoil 
of  Venus. 


Whether,  after  scattering  the  limy  substance  over  the 
reed,  visited  by  birds^  you  tread  the  hills  or  kill  hares, 
call  upon  Pan.    Pan  snows  to  the  dog  the  print-marks  of 

I — 1  Such  is  the  literal  version  of  the  Greek  xaptvac,  fitrddo^,  ^ays, 
OviitA  Xoyt^ow— where,  since  fitrddoc  is  strangely  put  before  ^dytf  one 
would  prefer  x^piv  ijfiar  86g'  ^dye,  OvtiH  Xoyt^ow— i.  e.  **  give  pleasure 
to  the  day ;  eat,  0  mortal ;  consider —  *'  Compare  Horace's  "  Preesens 
carpe  diem —  " 

*  Ath6n6  was  the  goddess  who  presided  over  weaving. 

Edwards's  selection.  279 

the  shaggy  foot ;  ^  Pan  keeps  erect  the  putting  together 
of  the  not  inclining  reeds.^ 


If  as  a  manly  person  you  have  come,  stranger,  draw 
from  this  fountain.^  But  if  you  are  naturally  effeminate, 
do  not  drink  by  way  of  excuse.  I  am  manly,  and  I 
please  only  men.  But  to  those  naturally  effeminate  their 
nature*  is  water. 


If  thirst  in  mid-day  oppresses  thee,  O  rustic,  together 
with  thy  flocks,  when  thou  hast  come  to  the  stream  of 
Cleitoris  in  a  retired  spot,  draw  some  drink  from  the 
fountain,  and  place  all  thy  flock  of  goats  near  the 
Nymphs  of  the  water.  But  do  not  throw  on  thy  skin 
water  to  wash  it ;  lest  the  vapour  of  the  pleasant  inebri- 
ety hurt  thee,  when  in  the  water :  but  fly  from  my  foun- 
tain, that  hates  the  vine;  where  Melampus,^  after  freeing 
the  daughters  of  Praetus  perfectly  from  madness,  im- 
mersed them  in  a  thorough  and  secret  cleansing,  when  he 
came  from  Argos  to  the  mountains  of  rugged  Arcadia. 

Shepherd,  if  thirst  oppress  thee,  while  thy  flock 
Thou  lead'st  at  noon  by  this  Arcadian  spring, 
Here  freely  drink  thy  fill,  and  freely  bring 

Around  my  Naiads  all  thy  fleecy  stock. 

*  This  was  peculiarly  said  of  a  hare,  called  XafftSirovg. 

'  Jacobs  aptly  refers  to  Martial  xiv.  218,  "  Non  tantum  calamis,  sed 
cantu  fallitur  ales ;  Pallida  dum  tacita  crescit  arundo  manu.*' 

'  Jacobs  conceives  that  the  fountain  alluded  to  was  that  of  Salmacis  in 
Garia,  which,  says  Strabo,  was  in  bad  repute  for  rendering  effeminate 
those  who  drank  of  it. 

*  By  Y/  <l>vatg  Jacobs  understands  the  nature  of  those  who  drink,  not  that 
of  the  fountain.  But  even  thus  it  is  difficult  to  perceive  the  pith  of  the 
whole  Epigram. 

*  The  story,  to  which  the  writer  alludes,  is  told  by  Ovid,  in  Metam.  xv. 
322,  *'  Clitorio  quicunque  sitim  de  fonte  levarit,  Vina  fugit,  gaudetque 
meris  abstemius  undis — Amythaone  natus  Prsetidas  attonitas  postquam 
per  carmen  et  herbas  Eripuit  furiis,  purgamina  mentis  in  illas  Misit  aquas 
odiumque  meri  permansit  in  undis." 


But  in  the  water  wash  not ;  lest  thou  feel 
Loathing  and  strange  antipathy  to  wine ; 
Such  power  it  hath  to  make  thee  hate  the  vine, 

E'er  since  my  fount  did  Praetus'  daughters  heal. 

For  here  Melampus  bathed  them ;  here  he  cast 
A  spell  to  purge  their  madness  off,  and  hold 
The  secret  taint,  what  time  from  Argos  old 

To  rough  Arcadia's  mountain-heights  he  past.     Crowe. 


0  Pan,  speak  out  a  sacred  saying*  to  the  flocks  as  they 
are  feeding,  by  placing  thy  bent  lip  over  the  golden 
reeds,  in  order  mat  the  ewes  may  frequently  bring  to 
the  dwelling  of  Clymenus  their  presents  of  white  milk, 
heavy  in  their  udders ;  and  that  liie  husband  of  the  ewes, 
standing  by  your  altar,  may  duly  throw  up  red  blood 
from  his  shaggy  breast. 


1  possess,  way-farer,  this  rocky  and  desert  spot ;  and 
yet,  not  I,  but  Archelochus,  who  placed  me  here,  is  the 
cause.  For  I,  Hermes,  do  not  delight  in  mountains  nor 
the  crests  of  .hills,  but  am  pleased  rather  with  by-paths. 
But  Archelochus,  as  being  himself  a  lover  of  desert 
pjaces,  and  unneighbourly,  has  caused  me  too,  passer-by, 
to  dwell  in  such  a  manner. 


Paris  has  seen  me  naked,  and  Anchises,  and  Adonis. 
These  three  only  do  I  know  of.  But  whence  did  Prax- 
iteles ? 

CCCLXIV.   WESTMINSTER,   2   BOOK,    82    EP. 
CCOLXV.  4       —       25  — 

*  By  iBpdv  ^driv  is  meant  **  a  charm,"  or  "  incantation." 

Edwards's  selectiok.  281 


Here,  throwing  yourself,  way-farer,  along  the  green 
meadow,  rest  your  limbs  rendered  soft  by  laborious  suf- 
fering; where  the  pine-tree  agitated  by  the  breath  of  the 
zephyr  shall  soothe  you,  while  listening  to  the  music  of 
the  tettix ;  and  the  shepherd  on  the  mountain  is  playing 
on  the  pipe  his  mid-day  tune  near  a  fountain,  and  in  a 
thicket  under  a  shaggy  plane-tree  is  avoiding  the  heat 
of  the  autumnal  dog-star ;  and  to-morrow  you  shall  pass 
the  grove.  To  Pan,  who  says  this  to  you,  be  duly  obe- 


Here,  under  the  juniper,  come,  way-farers,  and  rest 
your  limbs  awhile  near  Hermes,  the  guardian  of  the 
road.  Not  all  confusedly ;  but  as  many  as  are  tired  as 
to  their  knees  by  a  heavy  toil  and  thirst,  after  accom- 
plishing a  long  journey.  For  there  is  a  breeze,  and 
shady  seat ;  and  a  rill  under  a  rock  shall  put  to  sleep  the 
weariness  of  heavy  limbs.  And  after  escaping  the  breath 
under  the  open  sky  of  the  autumnal  dog-star,  honour,  as 
is  just,  Hermes,  who  presides  over  the  road. 


Nemesis  has  moulded  (one)  winged  Love  as  the  anta- 
gonist to  (another)  winged  Love,  in  order  that  he  might 
suffer  what  he  had  done.  But  the  one  who  was  former- 
ly bold  and  fearless,  sheds  tears  on  having  a  taste  of  bitter 
arrows ;  and  thrice  he  spat  on  his  deep  bosom. ^  Surely 
it  is  very  wonderful.  Some  one  will  burn  fire  by  fire. 
Love  has  touched  Love. 


^  I,  too,  am  of  the  blood  of  Venus ;  and  my  mother 
endured  that  I  should  possess  arrows  and  wings  opposed 
to  my  brother. 

*  On  this  custom  Jacobs  refers  to  Theocrit.  Id.  xx.  11 .  It  was  used  to 
deprecate  the  effects  of  an  ill  omen. 

*  Jacobs  considers  this  as  a  continuation  of  the  preceding  Epigram. 



I  am  an  Arcadian  goddess,  and  I  dwell  near  the  door- 
way of  Lyaens,^  giving  io,  return  a  speech  that  has  been 
spoken.  For  no  longer,  dear  Bacchus,  do  I  hate  one, 
who  belongs  to  thy  revels.  Come  then.  Pan ;  and  let 
US  speak  words  in  common. 



Here  behold  a  likeness  of  the  Colchian,  the  murderess 
of  her  children ;  here  behold  her  statue,  modelled  by 
the  hand  of  Timomachus.  There  is  a  sword  in  her  hand; 
passion  vehement;  a  wild  look;  a  tear  coming  down 
over  her  children  to  be  pitied.  All  he  has  combined 
together,  collecting  into  one  things  not  to  be  mingled, 
but  sparing  to  colour  her  hand  with  blood. 


The  sculptor  was  no  mortal ;  but  Bacchus,  thy  lover, 
chiselled  thee  such  as  he  saw  thee  reclining  over  a  rock. 
No  mortal  artist  chisell'd  thee : 
Bacchus,  the  enamour'd  deity, 
Such  as  he  view'd  thee  laid  upon  the  rock, 
Sculptured  thy  living  form  upon  this  block.     H.  W. 



You  are,  O  painter's  brush,  envious,  and  grudgest 
those  who  are  looking  on,  by  your  having  concealed  the 
golden  ringlets  under  a  head-dress.     But  if  you  hide  in 

*  Jacobs  infers  from  'these  words,  that  the  statue  of  Echo  was  placed 
near  a  temple  of  Bacchus. 


the  likeness  the  chief  elegance  of  the  chiefest  head,  you 
do  not  furnish  a  belief  in  the  rest  of  the  beauty.  Every 
painter's  brush  favours  the  form.  But  you  alone  have 
stealthily  taken  away  the  splendour  of  Theodorias. 

CCCLXXVn.      WESTMINSTER,   3  BOOK,    11    EP. 

A  reed  I  am  ;  I  cannot  bear 
Grape,  or  apple,  hg,  or  pear. 

For  gastronomic  uses  ; 
But  mine  is  a  divine  estate. 
When  man  doth  me  initiate 

A  priest  of  all  the  Muses.  n 

My  point  he  pares,  and  splits,  and  nips. 
And  frames  a  throat  and  narrow  lips, 

And  fills  with  sable  wine  ; 
"  Then,  though  my  mouth  is  ever  dumb, 
Like  one  inspired  I  straight  become ; 

A  world  of  words  is  mine.         G.  C.  S. 


Hunting  is  a  practice  for  war  ;^  and  hunting  teaches 
(one)  to  catch  a  thing  concealed ;  to  wait  for  those  com- 
ing on ;  to  pursue  the  flying. 


The  diviners  of  the  sky  laid  down  three  decads  of 
years,  (and)  two  triads,  as  the  measure  of  my  life.  I 
am  satisfied  with  these.  For  the  period  of  early  age  is 
the  brightest  flower.  Even  the  thrice  old  Pylian  (Nestor) 


Why  thus,  ye  shepherds,  shamelessly  pursue. 
And  drag  me  from  the  branches  moist  with  dew, 
The  grasshopper — ^the  friend  of  solitudes — 
ShriU-singing  to  the  hills  and  shady  woods, 

'  A  similar  idea  in  Xenophon  Cyrop.  i.  2, 10,  as  remarked  by  Jacobs. 


Me,  the  Nymphs'  songster — ^me,  who  chirp  my  lays, 
And  cheer  them  through  the  heats  of  summer  days  ? 
The  merle  and  thrush — those  robbers — see,  'tis  they, 
And  such,  that  bear  the  rough  earth's  fruit  away. 
'Tis  just  to  catch  those  spoilers ;  kill  the  thieves  ; 
Why  grudge  the  grasshopper  fresh  dew  and  leaves  ?    Hay. 


A  spider  having  woven  its  thin  *  web  with  its  slim 
feet^  caught  a  tettix,  hampered  in  the  intricate  net.  I 
did  not  however,  on  seeing  the  young  thing  that  loves 
music,  run  by  it,  while  making  a  lament  in  the  thin  fet- 
ters ;  but  freeing  it  from  the  net  I  relieved  it,  and  spoke 
thus — "  Be  saved,  thou,  who  singest  with  a  musical 

Her  web  with  subtle  feet  a  spider  wrought 

And  in  its  toils  a  poor  cicada  caught. 
•   Hearing  it  lowly  wail  its  flimsy  chain, 

I  left  not  the  young  songster  to  complain. 

But  burst  its  bonds,  and  let  it  loose,  and  said — 

"  For  thy  sweet  music,  freedom  be  thy  meed." 

F.  Wrangham. 
While  with  lithe  feet  her  task  the  spider  plied, 

Within  her  snares  a  grasshopper  she  drew ; 
Under  the  tiny  chains  the  captive  sigh'd, 

And  to  release  the  child  of  song  I  flew. 
"  Save  thee,"  I  cried ;  "thy  chains  are  off ;  be  free  ; 
And  now  indulge  thy  sweetest  minstrelsy."  Hay. 

GOOLXXXn.   WESTMINSTER,   2   BOOK,    11    EP. 

CCCLXXXin.  2       —        9  — 

^Hesperius  has  overcome  me  and  at  the  same  time  an 

» — *  Jacobs  has  happily  elicited  vo<rly  lerbv  from  virb  7ro(r<riv,  to 
which  he  was  led  by  the  version  of  Grotius,  "  tenuem  telam." 

* — '  This  Epigram,  says  Jacobs,  was  written  by  the  author  on  his 
slave,  Hesperius,  neglecting  to  call  him,  when  sleeping  heavily  in  the 

Edwards's  selection.  285 

early-moming  slumber;  the  latter,  by  falling  heavily 
upon  me;  the  former,  by  not  calling  me.  Of  which 
two  let  the  former  perish ;  but  may  the  other  be  pro- 
pitious, that  appeared,  knowing  the  measure  of  hours.^ 

CCCLXXXV.   WESTMINSTER,   3   BOOK,      9   EP. 


When  now  the  Cynic  in  dark  Pluto's  reign 
His  earthly  task  of  snarling  wisdom  closed, 

Laughing  he  hdard  the  Lydian  king  complain, 

And  spread  his  cloak,  and  near  the  prince  reposed. 

"  Drainer,"  he  cried,  "  of  streams  that  flow'd  with  gold, 

My  higher  dignity  in  hell  belrold ; 

For  all  I  had  on  earth,  this  nether  sphere 
.     Receives  with  me ;  but  thou  hast  nothing  here."      F.  H. 


Three  damsels  once  played  with  each  other,  by  draw- 
ing lots,  which  should  first  go  to  Hades.  And  thrice 
they  threw  from  their  hands  the  die ;  and  the  die  of  all 
came  to  one  party ;  and  she  laughed  at  the  lot,  that  was 
destined  for  her.  But  she,  ill-fated,  slipped  by  an  un- 
expected fall  from  the  roof,  and  went  to  Hades,  as  she 
had  obtained  by  lot.  Without  falsehood  is  the  lot,  in 
which  evil  (is) ;  but  for  what  is  better,  neither  prayers 
are  successful  in  their  aim  to  mortals,  nor  are  hands. 

Three  damsels  once  essay'd,  in  mirthful  vein. 

Who  first  should  visit  Pluto's  gloomy  reign ; 

And  thrice  with  anxious  hearts  they  threw  the  die 

That  should  decide  their  future  destiny. 

The  lot  on  one  was  cast ;  but  no  alarm 

Excited ;  she  but  mock'd  the  idle  charm. 

Yet  unawares  her  destiny  fulfiU'd, 

Slipp'd  from  the  roof  and  by  the  fall  was  kill'd. 

True  are  the  Fates,  when  hovering  evils  Iwrood; 

Forbear  to  trust  them,  when  they  promise  good.      Bl. 

morning,  and  thus  preyenting  him  from  attending  a  lecture  he  was  glad 
to  miss.  . 




Not  the  plain  of  Smyrna  produced  the  divine  Homer, 
nor  Colophon,  the  bright  star  of  the  luxurious  Ionia ; 
not  Chios,  nor  fruitful  Egypt ;  not  holy  Cyprus,  nor  the 
old^  island,  the  country  of  Laertiades;  not  Argos  (the 
land)  of  Danaus  and  the  Cyclopean  Myc^n^,  nor  the 
city  of  the  Cecropians  descended  from  old ;  for  he  was 
naturally  not  a  work  of  the  earth ;  but  the  Muses  sent 
him  from  the  sky,  that  he  might  bring  gifts  desired  by 
beings  of  a  day. 


Pindar  of  Thebes  twanged  (his  lyre)  with  a  loud 
sound ;  the  Muse  of  Simonides,  with  voice,  like  honey, ' 
sweet,  breathed  delight ;  Stesichorus  and  Ibycus  were 
brilliant  ,•  Alcman  was  sweet ;  Bacchjrlides  spoke  from 
his  mouth  in  liquid  notes.  Persuasion  followed  Ana* 
creon.  The  Lesbian  AlcaBus  spoke  in  varied  measures 
with  his  -ffiolian  harp.  And  Sappho  is  enrolled  the 
ninth  not  amongst  men,  but  the  tenth  Muse  amongst  the 
lovely^  Muses. 

O  sacred  voice  of  the  Pierian  choir. 

Immortal  Pindar !  Oh,  enchanting  air. 
Of  sweet  Bacchylides !  Oh,  rapturous  lyre. 

Majestic  graces  of  the  Lesbian  fair ! 
Muse  of  Anacreon,  the  gay,  the  young ! 

Stesichorus,  thy  full  Homeric  stream ! 
Soft  elegies  by  Cea's  poet  sung ! 

Persuasive  Ibycus,  thy  glowing  theme ! 
Sword  of  Alcaeus,  that  with  tyrant's  gore 

Gloriously  painted,  lift'st  thy  point  so  high  ! 
Ye  tuneful  nightingales,  that  still  deplore 

Your  Alcman,  prince  of  amorous  poesy — 

*  This  epithet  is  from  Homer  IX.  r.  201,  *l9ari;c  icpava^c. 
'  In  IpartivaXc  probably  lies  hid  ^Eparovg  vaic.    For  Sappho  would 
be  fairly  called  **  the  child  of  Erato,"  as  Orpheus  was  of  Calliop6. 


Oil  yet  impart  some  breath  of  heavenly  fire 

To  him,  who  venerates  the  Grecian  lyre.      J.  H.  M. 


Come  to  the  splendid  grove  of  the  blue-eyed  Juno,  ye 
Lesbian  damsels,  twirling  the  delicate  steppings  of  your 
feet ;  there  establish  a  beautiful  dance  for  the  goddess ; 
and  you  shall  Sappho  lead,  holding  a  golden  lyre  in  her 
hands,  oh  ye  happy  in  the  much-joyous  dance.  Surely 
you  will  tiiink  you  are  hearing  the  pleasant  strain  of 
Calliop^  herself. 

Come,  Lesbian  maids,  to  Juno's  royal  dome,  ' 

With  steps  that  hardly  press  the  pavement,  come ; 

Let  your  own  Sappho  lead  the  lovely  choir. 

And  to  the  altar  bear  her  golden  lyre. 

There  first,  in  graceful  order  slow  advance ; 

Then  weave  light  mazes  in  the  joyous  dance ; 

Herself  the  wMle  her  heaven-taught  strains  shall  pour. 

Such  strains  as  sang  Calliope  of  yore.  J.  H.  M. 

CCCXCni.     WESTMINSTER,    1    BOOK,   95   EP. 



No  language  greater  than  thine,  O  pre-eminent  mouth 
of  the  weU-tongu^d  Attica,  has  every  page  of  the  Pan- 
Hellenes  concealed.  For  thou  didst  first,  0  divine 
Plato,  stretch  thine  eye  to  god  and  heaven,  and  survey 
mortals  and  life,  and  didst  with  the  Socratic  sneer  mix 
up  the  Samian  mind,  a  union  ^  most  beautiful  in  a 
venerable  difference  of  sentiment. 


It  was  meet  to  place  thee,  Menander,  in  union  with 
thy  beloved  Cupid,  living  with  whom  you  were  initiated 
in  the  delightful  mysteries  of  the  god.  And  thou  art 
plainly  carrying  about  every  where  the  god ;  since  even 
now  all,  who  look  on  thy  form,  are  in  love  with  thee. 

*  In  lieu  of  the  unintelligible  ffijfia,  Scaliger  suggested  Ufifia, 


Menander,  sweet  Thalia's  pride, 

Well  art  thou  placed  by  Cupid's  side. 

Priest  to  the  god  of  soft  delights, 

Thou  spread'st  on  earth  his  joyous  rites. 

And  sure  the  boy  himself  we  see 

To  smile,  and  please,  and  breathe  in  thee : 

For  musing  o'er  yon  imaged  stone, 

To  see  thee,  and  to  love,  are  one.  Bl. 


You  see  here,  Menander,  the  joyous  friend  of  Love, 
the  Siren  of  the  stage,  with  his  head  ever  garlanded, 
because  he  taught  mankind  a  joyous  life,  sweetening  the 
scene  with  dramas  all  of  marriage. 

Behold  Menander,  Siren  of  the  stage. 

Who  charm'd,  with  love  allied,  a  happier  age. 

Light  wanton  wreaths,  that  never  shall  be  dead, 

Are  curl'd  luxuriant  round  the  poet's  heud ; 

Who  dress'd  the  scene  in  colours  bright  and  gay 

And  breathed  enchantment  o'er  the  Hving  lay.       Bl. 

CCCXCVin.    ETON   EXTRACTS,    128   EP. 


Ye  pillars  and  my  Sirens,  and  sorrowing  urn,  that 
boldest  for  Hades  my  small  ashes,  bid  those  all  hail, 
who  come  near  my  tomb,  whether  they  are  citizens  or 
from  another  city;  and  say  that  the  tomb  holds  me  a 
virgin,  and  this  too,  that  my  father  called  me  Baucis, 
and  that  I  was  of  a  Tenian  family,  and  that  they  may 
know^^  that  my  companion,  Erinna,  engraved  this  writing 
on  my  tomb. 

Say,  ye  cold  pillars,  and  thou  wasting  urn. 
And  sculptured  Sirens,  that  appear  to  mourn, 

*  In  the  words  mq  d*  ilddv  rt,  -which  Jacobs  vainly  attempts  to  explain, 
lies  hid  a  comiption  not  easy  to  correct,  unless  by  reading  wf  d\  VV*  liSoi 
rd,  viKp*  dtrrk*  «/**,  "  and  that,  in  order  that  my  dead  bones  might  be 
pleased;*'  in  lieu  of  (i>f  i*  ild&vri  xal  Sore  fioi. 

Edwards's  selection.  289 

And  guard  within  my  poor  and  senseless  dust, 

Consign'd  by  fondest  memory  to  your  trusty 

Say  to  the  stranger,  as  he  muses  nigh. 

That  Ida's  ashes  here  lamented  lie, 

Of  noble  lineage ;  that  Erinna's  love 

Thus  mourns  the  partner  of  her  joys  above.  Bl. 

Pillars  of  death,  carved  Sirens,  tearful  urns. 

In  whose  sad  keeping  my  poor  dust  is  laid. 
To  him,  who  near  my  tomb  his  footsteps  turns. 

Stranger  or  Greek,  bid  hail ;  and  say  a  maid 
Rests  in  her  bloom  below ;  her  sire  the  name 

Of  Baucis  gave ;  her  birth  and  lineage  high ; 
And  say  her  bosom  friend  Erinna  came 

And  on  this  tomb  engraved  her  elegy.  Elton. 


I  am  (the  tomb)  of  the  maiden  Baucis ;  and  do  thou, 
who  passest  slowly  by  this  much-wept-for  pillar,  say  to 
Hades  below  the  earth  thus — "Thou  art  envious,^ 
Hades."  To  him,  who  is  looking  on  these  pretty^ 
symbols,  tell  the  cruel  fate  of  Baucis,  how  'the  funeral 
fire  burnt  the  damsel  with  the  very  torches  at  her  death,' 
with  which  the  beautiful  Hymen  had  been  delighted. 
And  thou,  0  Hymen,  didst  suit,  by  a  change  in  the  strain, 
that  song  of  marriage  to  the  language  of  a  mournful 

I  am  the  tomb  of  Ida,  hapless  bride ! 
Unto  this  pillar,  traveller,  turn  aside ; 
Turn  to  this  tear-worn  monument  and  say— 
"  Oh !  envious  Death,  to  snatch  this  life  away." 
These  mystic  symbols  all  too  plainly  show 
The  bitter  fate  of  her,  who  sleeps  below. 

'  On  the  envy  of  happy  mortals  felt  by  the  deities,  Jacobs  refers  to 
Herodot.  vii.  46. 

^  In  lieu  of  roc  caXd,  where  Ka\d  seems  rather  strange*  one  would 
prefer  vrouciXa,  "  various — " 

• — •  The  Greek  is  at  present  ralvd*  iiri  Kadtvrdc  i<p\sye  irvpKaif.  But 
from  words  without  syntax  it  is  impossible  to  elicit  sense.  The  author  pro- 
bably wrote,  what  is  here  translated,  ralvS*  kiriKfidtiaic  I^Xeye  irvpKdid* 


The  very  torch  that  laughing  Hymen  bore 

To  light  the  virgin  to  the  bridegroom's  door, 

With  that  same  torch  the  bridegroom  lights  the  fire. 

That  dimly  glimmers  on  h6r  funeral  pyre. 

Thou,  too,  O  H}nnen,  bidst  the  nuptial  lay 

In  elegiac  meanings  die  away.  J.  H.  M. 

The  virgin  Myrtis'  sepulchre  am  I ; 

Creep  softly  to  the  pillar'd  mount  of  woe. 

And  whisper  tb  the  grave,  in  earth  below — 
"  Grave,  thou  art  envious,  in  thy  cruelty." 
To  thee,  now  gazing  here,  her  barbarous  fate 

These  bride's  adornments  tell,  that  with  the  fire 
Of  Hymen's  torch,  which  led  her  to  the  gate, 

The  husband  burnt  the  maid  upon  her  pyre. 
Yes,  Hymen,  thou  didst  change  the  marriage  song 
To  the  shrill  wailing  of  the  mourner's  song.         Eltok. 

CCCCI.      WESTMINSTER,  3  BOOK,  62  EP. 

Sparta,  our  country,  we  thy  thirty  sons 

At  Thyrea  fought  with  thirty  valiant  ones — 

Argives — nor  did  we  turn  our  backs,  but  where 

We  first  had  stood,  our  lives  we  yielded  there. 

Stain'd  with  thy  blood,  Othryades,  this  shield 

Proclaims — "  Here  Argives  did  to  Spartans  yield  ** — 

If  Argive  fled,  Adrastus'  blood  owns  he ; 

Death  is  not  death  to  Spartans,  but  to  flee.      Hay. 

CCCCn.     WESTMINSTER,    1    BOOK,   54  EP. 

ccoonr.         2     —    37  — 

ccccrv.  —    —     38  — 


These  have  around  their  beloved  country  placed  un- 
extinguished renown,  and  thrown  around  themselves 
the  livid  cloud  of  death ;  nor  though  dead  are  they  dead ; 
since  Valour  that  is  celebrated  above  brings  them  from 
the  house  Hades. 

Edwards's  selection.  291 

These  won  for  Sparta  fame  through  endless  days, 
When  death's  dark  cloud  upon  themselves  they  drew  ; 

But  dying  died  not ;  for  their  Valour's  praise 
From  Hades'  dwelling  leads  them  up  anew. 


These  for  their  native  land  through  death's  dark  shade 
Who  freely  pass'd,  now  deathless  glory  wear  ; 

They  die  not ;  but  by  Valour's  sovereign  aid 
Are  ljK)me  from  Hades  to  the  upper  air.        J.  H.  M. 

These  to  their  land  fame  unextinguish'd  gave, 

Though  death's  dark  cloud  encompass'd  them  around ; 

Dying  they  died  not ;  Valour  from  the  grave 

Leads  them  on  high,  with  glory's  garland  crown'd. 

M.  A.  S. 




Timarchus,  while  his  father  was  holding  his  arms 
around  him,  as  he  was  expiring  in  the  desirable  period 

*  This  Epitaph  Franck  on  Calliiius  would  unite  with  another  of  Si- 
monides — 

Al  alt  vov<rt  paptlat  nrl  d^  \J/vxa'i<^i'  fityaifun 

* Audptoirunf  ipara  trap  i/«ott|ti  fiiveiv ; 

^'H  Kal  Tifiapxpv  yXvKtpri^  alStvo^  ifiipaui 

'HtOsovy  trplif  ISetv  KovpiSitjif  dKoxov — 

Which  is  literally — "  Alas !  alas !  thou  grievous  disease,  why  dost  thou  be- 
grudge the  life  of  man  to  remain  wiA  delightful  youth  ?  who  hast  de- 
prived the  youthful  Timarchus  of  his  pleasant  existence  before  he  beheld 
a  young  wife — "  and  both  are  thus  translated  by  a  writer  in  the  Quar- 
terly Review,  No.  xcv.  p.  97. 

Grievous  disease,  why  enviest  thou  to  man 

In  lovely  youth  to  stay, 
Amercing  young  Timarchus  of  his  life 

Before  his  nuptial  day  ? 
He,  in  his  father's  arms  embraced, 

Thus  gasp*d  with  failing  breath — 
"  O  Timenorides,  forget  me  not, 
Thy  virtuous  child,  in  death.'* 
u  2 


of  youth,  said — **  O  Timenorides,  you  will  never  forget 
your  dear  boy,  through  regretting  his  virtue  and  tem- 

Timarchus,  circled  in  his  son's  embrace, 

Exclahn'd,  while  breathing  out  his  latest  breath, — 
"  Timenor's  son,  henceforth  in  thoughts  retrace 
The  strength  and  cahn  of  soul  I  keep  in  death." 



Thee,  Sophocles,  the  son  of  SophUlus,  who  didst  play 
in  Choirs,^  the  Cecropian  star  of  the  tragic  Muse,  (and) 
whose  head  often  has  the  ivy  of  Acharme,  that  blooms 
with  twisted  branches,  covered  on  the  thymel^  ^  and  in 
the  scene,  does  the  tomb  hold,  and  a  little  portion  of 
earth.  ^But  abundant  Time  sees  (thee)  in  immortal 


ccccxn.        —    —     64  — 


.  We,  who  left  the  heavy-booming  wave  of  the  -SJgean 
sea,  lie  in  the  midst  of  the  plain  of  Ecbatana.  Farewell, 
renowned  coimtry  of  Eretria ;  farewell,  Athens,  neigh- 
bour of  Euboea ;  (and)  farewell,  thou  beloved  sea. 


We  are  of  the  race  of  Eretria  in  Euboea ;  but  we  are 
lying  near  Susa.  Alas !  how  distant  from  our  native 

'  This  alludes  to  the  fact  of  Sophocles  having  played  and  danced  in 
jsome  of  his  earliest  pieces. 

'  This  was  the  technical  name  for  that  part  of  the  stage,  where  the 
altar  of  Bacchus  was  placed. 

' — ^  The  Greek  is  d\\*  6  ireptwdc  Alutv  dQavdrotg —  But  vtpurvb^  is 
strangely  used  for  irokig —  Perhaps  the  poet  wrote  d\Xd  yepavroXg  Aiutv 
a'  dOdvarov — where  yepaarotc  would  allude  to  the  honours  paid  to  So- 
phocles when  victorious  at  the  dramatic  contests. 


Eretrians  of  Euboea,  we  are  laid  in  Susa's  earth ; 
Alas  !    at  what  a  distance  from  the  land  that  gave   us 
birth!  H.  W. 

•    CCCCXV.   ETON  EXTRACTS,    136   EP. 



I,  Philaenis,  who  was  in  bad  repute  amongst  men,  lie 
here  in  a  great  old  age.  Do  not  thou,  0  foolish  sailor, 
while  doubling  the  head-land,  make  li^ht  of  me  and  the 
butt  of  laughter  and  ribaldry.  For  Dy  Jove  and  ^  the 
youths  belbw,^  I  was  not  of  a  lascivious  behaviour  amongst 
men,  nor  a  common  woman.  But  Polycrates,  an  Athe- 
nian by  birth,  a  clever  concocter  of  stories,  and  with 
a  wicked  tongue,  has  written  what  he  has  written.^  Such 
matters  '  I  know  not. 


The  pillar,  with  heavy  feelings,  says  this — *^  Hades 
has  snatched  away  Theodot6,  young  in  years  and  small 
in  size."  And  the  little  one  says  to  her  father  this  in 
return — ^^  Bestrain  thy  sorrow,  Theodotus ;  mortals  are 
frequently  unfortimate." 


No  more  with  wings  shrill-sounding  shalt  thou  sing, 
O  locust,  along  the  fertile  furrows  settling ;  nor  me  re- 
clining under  the  shady  foliage  shalt  thou  delight,  strik- 
ing, with  dusky  wings,  a  pleasant  melody. 

Oh  !  never  more,  thou  locust,  shalt  thou,  with  shrilly  wing, 
.Along  the  fertile  burrows  sit,  and  thy  gladsome  carols  sing  : 

I — 1  What  -^schrion  meant  by  Toi)Q  kcltio  KoipovQ  Jacobs  has  not  even 
attempted  to  explain ;  for  he  probably  suspected  some  corruption  here, 
which  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  correct. 

'  On  the  formula  lypaif/ev  oV  iypaypev,  see  Blomf.  Ag.  66. 

'  In  lieu  of  iypa^l/tv  iyu)  S* — Planudes  has  tygw\fiv  ahrrj  i* — which 
plainly  leads  to  iypa\l/e'  Tolas' — 


Oh !  never  more  thy  nimble  wings  shall  cheer  this  heart  of 

With  sweetest  melody,  while  I  beneath  the  trees  recline. 


Even  here  shall  a  sacred  bird*  stop  its  swift  wing, 
and  settle  above  this  pleasant  plane-tree.  For  Poeman- 
der  the  Malian  is  dead;  nor  will  he  come  any  more, 
pouring  the  bird-lime  upon  the  prey-catching  reeds. 

Here  stay,  thou  sacred  bird,  thy  rapid  wing, 

And  safe  enjoy  the  plane-tree's  pleasant  shade ; 
Poemander  's  dead ;  no  more  his  snares  he'll  bring. 
Of  rustic  reeds  and  fatal  bird-lime  made. 

M.  A.  S. 

Alas!  Aristocratia,  thou  to  the  deep  Acheron  art 
gone  stretched  (on  thy  bed)  before  marriage  in  the  prime 
of  life ;  while  tears  are  left  to  thy  mother,  who  frequently 
stretched  on  thy  tomb  laments  thee  from  her  head.* 

Ah,  thou  art  gone,  Aiistocratia,  gone, 

To  deep,  deep  Acheron  ! 
Thou  should'st  have  been  a  blooming  bride,  but  thou 

Art  Ijing  low : 
Trickles  adown  thy  mother's  cheek  the  tear, 

O  daughter  dear ; 
As  oft,  with  drooping  head,  she  mourns  thy  doom 

Stretch'd  on  thy  tomb.  J.  W.  B. 


If,  stranger,  you  are  sailing  to  Mijyl^n^  with  its  lovely 
choirs,  to  behold  Sappho,  the  flower  of  the  Graces,  say, 

*  As  it  is  difficult  to  say  why  a  bird  should  be  called  Up^c,  it  is  proba- 
ble that  the  poet  wrote,  not  rai — Icpdc,  but  Trace — ispos — similar  to 
viuvoimvt  alOipoc  tbicvoic  in  Eurip.  El.  896.  On  the  confusion  of  waX 
and  Kai  see  Porson  Orest.  614. 

"  Meineke,  dissatisfied  with  Jacobs'  attempt  to  explain  Ik  ice0aXac,  sug- 
'■gcsts  Ic^a^cXoic.  The  translator  J.  W.  B.  seems  to  have  read  KtKKifUvac 
KutKvev,  aiK€0aXac — 


that  ^  I  was  beloved  hj  the  Muses,  and  that  the  land  of 
Locris  produced  me,  and  to  equals,*  that  my  name  is 
Nossis.     Depart, 


With  a  hearty  laugh  pass  by  me  and  say  over  me  a 
kind  word.  I  am  Ehinthon  of  Syracuse,  a  little  night- 
ingale of  the  Muses ;  but  by  Tragi-comedy  I  plucked 
an  ivy-(crown)  peculiar  to  myself. 

With  hearty  laughter  pass  this  column  by, 
Just  meed  of  praise  to  him,  who  slumbers  nigh. 
Ehinthon  my  name  ;  my  home  was  Syracuse ; 
And  though  no  tuneful  darling  of  the  Muse, 
I  first  made  Tragedy  divert  the  town ; 
And  wove — ^nay,  doubt  not— my  own  ivy-crown. 

J.  H.  M. 

CCCCXXIV.    ANYTE ;  bomb  sat,  LEONIDAS. 

For  a  locust,  the  nightingale  amongst  ploughed  fields, 
and  for  the  tettix,  whose  bed  is  in  the  oak,  did  Myro 
make  a  common  tomb,  after  the  damsel  had  dropt  a 
maiden  tear ;  for  Hades,  hard  to  be  persuaded,  had  gone 
away,  taking  with  him  her  two  playthings. 

The    oak-frequenting    grasshopper,   and    the  wood-land 

The  locust,  have  this  common  tomb ;  and  loud  is  Myro's 

And  virgin  tears  the  maiden  drops  for  these,  her  sportive 

Which  ruthless  Pluto  took,  and  which  she  ne'er  shall  see 

again.  Hat. 


Instead  of  a  bridal  chamber  with  a  fruitful  bed,  and 
solemn  nuptial  rites,  thy  mother  placed  in  this  marble 

1 — I  Edwards  has  adopted  the  emendation  proposed  by  Porson,  as  re- 
corded by  Gaisford  on  Hephaestion,  p.  10.  Meineke  has  edited  ^i\a  r'  ijv, 
&  re  AoKpiQ  ya  Tiktb  /i*,  itraic  d* — not  aware  that  Reisig  had  suggested  the 
same  emendation  in  (Comment.  Crit.  in  CEdip.  Col.  p  304.  But  as  Ivacc 
is  still  quite  unintelligible,  the  true  reading  remains  to  be  discovered. 


tomb  thee,  Thersis,  a  virgin  *  having  both  thy  stature 
and  beauty ;  but  though  dead  thou  art  still  spoken  to. 

Throwing  her  arms  around  her  dear  father,  these  last 
words  did  Erato  say,  while  bedewed  with  tears  and  pale 
— **  I  am,  O  father,  no  more ;   and  livid  death  darkens 
the  eyes  of  me,  who  am  already  dying." 

Poor  Erato,  when  the  cold  hand  of  death 
Choked  the  faint  struggles  of  her  labouring  breath, 
And  parting  life  scarce  glimmer'd  in  her  fa«e, 
Strain'd  her  fond  parent  in  a  last  embrace. 
"  Oh  !  father,  I'm  no  more  ;  dark  clouds  arise, 
The  mists  of  death  hang  heavy  on  my  eyes." 


Often  at  this  monument  does  Cleino,  the  mother  of  a 
maiden  ivhose  death  was  rapid,  call  with  lamentations 
on  her  loved  child,  invoking  the  soul  of  Philsenis,  who 
before  marriage  went  over  the  green  water  of  the  river 

In  this  sad  tomb,  where  Clino  sleeps,  sweet  maid. 

Her  mother  oft  invokes  the  gentle  shade, 

And  calls  in  hopeless  grief  on  her,  who  died 

In  the  full  bloom  of  youth  and  beauty's  pride  ; 

Who  left,  a  virgin,  the  bright  reahns  of  day. 

On  gloomy  Acheron's  pale  coasts  to  stray.    J.  H.  M. 

Clino  at  this  sad  spot,  where  sleeps  a  maid. 

Too  quickly  snatch'd,  calls,  mother-like,  the  shade 

Of  her  Phikenis  often  ;  who  unwed 

O'er  the  green  wave  of 'Acheron  has  fled.  G.  B. 

ccccxxvni.  Westminstbe,  i  book,  38  EP. 

CCCCXXIX.  2      —       52  — 

For  the  length  of  eight  cubits  keep  yourself  off,  rough 
*  It  would  seem  that  by  TrapQtviKav  is  meant  a  "  yirgin-like  statue." 

Edwards's  selection.  297 

sea,  and  rise  into  waves  and  roar  out,  how  creat  is  your 
power ;  but  if  you  take  away  the  tomb  of  Eumar^s,  you 
will  find  nothing  else  of  value,  but  merely  bones  and 

Keep  off,  rude  sea,  if  but  eight  cubits'  length  ; 
And  roar  and  rage  and  sweU  with  all  thy  strength. 
The  grave  of  Eumares  should'st  thou  take,  thy  gains 
Are  but  the  bones  and  ashes  it  contains.  H.  W, 


Thou  pain-giving  minister  of  Hades,  who  sailest  over 
the  water  of  Acheron  in  thy  dark-blue  punt,  receive 
me — even  if  thy  frost-cold  ^  boat  be  greatly  burthened — 
Diogenes,  the  dog,  who  am  dead :  my  cargo  is  a  pitcher, 
and  a  wallet,  and  an  old  garment,  and  a  farthing,  that 

fays  the  ferry  for  the  dead ;  all  that  amongst  the  living 
possessed,  I  am  come  bringing  to  Hades ;  and  I  have 
left  nothing  under  the  sim.  * 

Sad  minister  of  Hades,  who  alone 

With  thy  black  boat  canst  pass  o'er  Acheron, 

What  though  that  fearful  boat  nigh  sunken  be 

With  its  fuU  freight  of  souls,  yet  take  in  me, 

The  dog  Diogenes  ;  'tis  all  I  ask, 

Besides  my  comrade  scrip  and  leathern  flask. 

This  tatter'd  cloak,  and  mite  to  pay  the  ferry. 

All  I  possess'd  on  earth  to  make  me  merry ; 

And  slU  I  wish  in  Hell  again  to  find. 

I  have  left  nothing  in  the  world  behind.  J.  H.  M. 

Nether  Pluto's  most  troublesome  slave, 
That  puntest  'cross  Acheron's  wave 
In  that  ferry  boat  dismal  and  dread ; 
Though  with  shuddering  ghosts  of  the  dead 
Supercargoed,  receive  on  your  log 
Diogenes,  sumamed  the  dog. 
For  my  old  coat  and  satchel  and  flask 
To  take  with  me  is  all  I  shall  ask, 

*  In  lieu  of  irpv^cffcro,  Meineke  has  correctly  adopted  i  Kpv6t<T<ra,  fiir- 
nished  by  Suidas. 


With  a  penny  to  pay  for  the  shippage. 

Here  I  am  with  all  my  equipage ; 

And  as  rich  now,  as  when  with  mankind  ; 

I  am  sure  I  leave  nothing  behind.        G.  F,  D.  T. 


I  am  here  a  stone  over  Crethon,  showing  forth  his 
name,  but  Crethon  is  amongst  those  under  the^earth. 
merely  ashes;  he,  who  formerly  equalled  Gyges  in 
wealtn ;  he,  who  formerly  was  rich  in  kine ;  he,  who 
formerly  was  rich  in  flocks  of  goats  ;  he,  who  formerly 
— ^but  why  do  I  mention  more  ? — ^he,  who  was  deemed 
happy  ^  by  all,  alas !  how  little  a  portion  does  he  possess 
of  lands  so  large ! 

I  am  the  tomb  of  Crethon ;  here  you  read 
.    His  name ;  himself  is  numbered  with  the  dead ; 
Who  once  had  wealth  not  less  than  Gyges"  gold ; 
Who  once  was  rich  in  stable,  stall,  and  fold ; 
Who  once  was  blest  above  all  living  men — 
With  lands,  how  narrow  now,  how  ample  then  I 

J.  p.  M. 

The  name  of  Crethon  and  his  state  to  show, 

This  stone  is  placed ;  he  lies  in  dust  below ; 

Who  erst  like  Gyges  did  in  wealth  abound ; 

Who  erst  beheld  his  herds  and  flocks  around  ; 

Who  erst — ^why  longer  idly  talk  ?  this  man, 

Envied  by  all,  now  holds  of  earth  a  span.     M.  A.  S. 


Quietly  pass  by  the  tomb,  lest  you  wake  up  the  sharp- 
(stinged)  wasp,  who  is  taking  his  rest  in  sleep.  For  just 
now  the  passion  of  Hipponax,  who  barked  against  his  pa- 
rents, just  now^  is  put  to  sleep  in  quietness.  But  have 
a  care,  for  his  words,  full  of  fire,  have  even  in  Hades  the 
power  to  inflict  pain. 

*  In  lieu  of  ftaKaprbs,  which  is  scarcely  a  Greek  word,  one  would 
have  expected  fuyaprbc — 

*  To  avoid  the  unmeaning  repetition  of  dfpn,  one  would  prefer  x&^a, 
"  very  much,"  united  to  Karapav^as, 

Edwards's  SELECxiON.  299 

Pass  gently  by  this  tomb,  lest,  while  he  dozes. 
Ye  wake  the  hornet,  that  beneath  reposes  ; 
Whose  sting,  that  would  not  his  own  parents  spare, 
Who  will,  may  risk ;  and  touch  it  those,  who  dare. 
Take  heed  then ;'  for  his  words,  like  fiery  darts. 
Have  e'en  in  Hell  the  power  to  pierce  our  hearts. 

J.  H.  M. 


A.  Who,  and  whose  daughter,  art  thou,  O  woman, 
who  liest  under  a  Parian  pillar  ?  £.  I  am  Prexo,  the 
daughter  of  Calliteles.  A.  And  of  what  country  ?  B. 
Of  Samos.  A,  And  who  buried  you  ?  B.  Theocritus, 
to  whom  my  parents  gave  me  in  marriage.  A.  Of  what 
did  you  die  ?  B,  Of  child-birth.  A.  Being  how  many 
years  old  ?  B.  Twenty-two.  A.  Were  you  childless  ? 
J5.  No,  I  left  Calliteles  three  years  old.  A,  May  he 
live,  and  come  to  a  prolonged  old  age.  B.  And  to  you, 
stranger,  may  Fortune  give  all  good  things. 

A .  Who,  and  whose  child,  art  thou,  that  sleep'st  beneath  this 

Parian  pile  ? 

B.  Prexo ;   my  sire  Calliteles.     A,  From  whence  ?     B. 

From  Samos'  isle. 
A.  By  whom  interr'd  ?    B,   Theocritus,  the  spouse  my 

parents  chose. 
A.  What  brought  thee  to  the  grave  ?    B.  Alas  !  1  died  in 

child-bed  throes. 

A.  Of  years  how  many  ?  B.  Twenty-two.   A,  And  child- 

less all  bereft  ? 

B,  Ah  !  no ;  one  child,  Calliteles,  of  three  years  old,  I  left. 
A»  Long  may  he  live,  poor  boy,  and  to  an  honour'd  age 

B,  And,  stranger  kind,  may  Fate  for  thee  whate'er  is  good 
or^n.  J.  H.  M. 

A.  Who,  and  what  art  thou,  lady,  sleeping  here, 

Beneath  the  Parian  column's  silent  shade  ? 

B,  Prexo,  Calliteles'  own  daughter  dear. 

A,      Where  bom?    B.  At  Samos.    A.  Who  death's  rites 
has  paid  ? 


B,  Theocritus,  to  whom  my  parents  gave 

My  hand.    A.  Thy  death?    B.  'Twas  child-birili's 
pains.     A.  Thy  years  ? 
B,  Were  two  and  twenty.     A,  Childless  to  the  grave 
Didst  thou  descend  ?    J5.  To  dry  a  father's  tears 
Calliteles  lives,  just  three  years  old.     A.  May  he 
Old  age  attain,     i?.  Stranger,  good  be  to  thee. 

M.  A.  S. 

On  thee,  stranger,  Orthon,  a  man  of  Syracuse,  enjoins 
this :  *^  Do  not  go  out  at  all,  when  druiik,  on  a  wintry- 
night;  for  I  suflFered  a  fate  of  this  kind  ;  and  instead  of 
an  extensive  ^  country,  I  lie  invested  in  a  foreign  one." 
Stranger,  the  Syracusan  Orthon  prays 
You  walk  not  forth  drunk  in  the  night ;  but  says. 
That  he  by  such  misfortune  was  undone, 
And  sleeps  in  death,  beneath  a  foreign  stone.     C.  M. 

CCCCXXXVI.    THE  SAME;  othbes  say,  MELEAGER. 

The  virgin  Erinna,  the  young  songstress  amongst  min- 
strels, that,  like  the  bee,  fed  upon  the  flowers,  belonging 
to  the  Muses,  has  Hades  carried  off  to  his  own  bridal 
rites.  Surely  the  clever  girl  said  truly  this — "  Envious 
thou  art,  0  Hades." 


What  shall  we  conjecture,  on  seeing  the  die,  called 
Chian,  engraved  and  lying  upon  thy  tomb,  Peisistratus  ? 
Is  it  that  you  were  a  Chian  ?  It  is  likely.  Or  that  you 
were  a  gamester,  but  not,  my  good  man^  the  very  best 
thrower?^  Or  is  neither  of  these  near  the  mark? 
but  were  you  extinguished  in  ( a  cask  of)  Chian  wine 

*  Instead  of  SlvtI  dk  iroXXiyc,  which  Jacobs  once  endeavoured  to  ex- 
plain, Auratus  wished  to  read  dvTi  vraXaiag — ^but  Heinsius,  dvri  Sk  piiXov, 
adopted  by  Meineke.  Jacobs  subsequently  suggested  irorvriQ,  But  the 
corruption  lies  somewhat  deeper,  as  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  show. 

'  As  the  die  called  Chian  meant  one,  and  as  the  lowest  number  was 
considered  the  least  fortunate,  it  is  evident  the  poet  wrote  Xi^dro^XoQ, 
with  a  play  on  «J  ayaBk,  not  irXiiaTo^oXoQ, 

Edwards's  selection.  301 

unmixed  ?    Yes,  1  think  so.     In  this  we  haVe  come  near 
(the  truth). 


Maronis,  fond  of  wine,  the  ashes  of  kegs,^  lies  here  in 
years,  over  whose  tomb  is  placed  the  Attic  goblet,  a 
thing  known  to  all ;  and  below  the  earth  she  grieves  not 
for  cnildren,  nor  husband,  whom  she  left,  wanting  the 
means  of  life,  but  for  one  thing  above  all — that  the  gob- 
let is  empty. 


A  gale  from  the  East,  rough  and  calamity-bringing,^ 
and  night,  and  *  the  waves,  during  the  dark  all-setting 
of  Orion,'  have  done  me  a  hurt ;  and  I,  Callaeschrus, 
have  slipt  out  of  life,  while  running  through  the  midst 
of  the  Libyan  sea ;  and  tost  about  m  the  ocean,  a  prize 
for  fish,  am  gone  dead ;  but  the  stone  is  here  telling  a 

The  rough  and  blustering  East-wind's  sudden  sway, 
As  set  in  storm  and  rack  Orion's  ray, 
And  pitchy  night  fell  on  the  Libyan  wave, 
Hurl'd  down  CalUeschrus  to  a  watery  grave. 
The  billows  bear  my  corpse,  tb  fish  a  prize  ; 
And  this  my  tomb  its  title  but  belies.  G.  S. 


Ah !  hapless  Anticles !  and  hapless  I,  too,  who  have 
placed  on  the  funeral  pyre  thee,  my  onlv-  son,  in  the 
bloom  of  youth !  thou  whou  hast  perished  a  boy  of 
eighteen  years  old;  while  I  weep  and  mourn  my  widowed 
old  age.  Would  that  I  might  go  to  the  shadowy  house 
of  Hades.     For  neither  the  mom,  nor  the  ray  of  the 

*  As  the  body  of  Maronis,  by  her  constant  drinking,  became  a  cask,  her 
ashes  would  be  properly  called  those  of  a  cask,  not  of  a  body. 

•  In  aiirriiffoa,  vainly  explained  by  Jacobs,  evidently  lies  hid  drtiv 
Otlaa — 

a — 3  From  the  unintelligible  Kai  Svo^tpijc  KvfAara  vavSvairic —  it  is  easy 
to  elicit  Kdv  ivo<^tpaic  Kvfia  rpiwXovv  dwtffiv —  where  Kvfia  rpiirXovv 
answers  to  the  well-known  rptcv/iia,  on  which  see  Blomfield  Prom.  1051. 


rapid  suii,^  is  pleasant  to  me.  Ah!  hapless  Anticles, 
snatched  by  death,  mayest  thou  be  a  healer  of  my  grief 
by  taking  me  to  thyself  from  life. 

Unhappy  child  !  unhappy  I,  who  shed 

A  mother's  sorrows  o'er  thy  funeral  bed ! 

Thou'rt  gone  in  youth,  Amyntas  ;  I  in  age 

Must  wander  through  a  lonely  pilgrimage, 

And  sigh  for  regions  of  unchanging  night, 

And  sicken  at  the  day's  repeated  light 

Oh  !  guide  me  hence,  sweet  spirit,  to  that  bourn, 

Where  in  thy  presence  I  shall  cease  to  mourn.      Bl. 

Oh !  wretched  Anticles !  oh !  wretched  me  I 

A  son  in  youth  and  beauty  dead  to  see. 

Scarce  eighteen  years  were  thine,  and  now  I  mourn 

My  old  age  widow'd,  hapless,  and  forlorn. 

Oh !  might  I  go  to  Hades'  shadowy  tomb ; 

For  here  nor  mom  nor  evening  cheers  the  gloom. 

Thougli  dead,  be  thou  the  healer  of  my  pain, 

And  from  life  take  me  to  thyself  again.  G.  B. 


Far  from  the  land  of  Italy  and  my  native  Tarentum 
am  I  lying ;  and  this  to  me  is  more  bitter  than  death. 
Such  is  of  wanderers  the  life  that  is  no  life.  Yet  have 
the  Muses  loved  me,  and  instead  of  things  sad,  I  have 
what  flows  with  honey ;  nor  has  the  name  of  Leonidas 
been'obliterated;  but  the  very  gifts  of  the  Muses  herald 
me  to  all  times. 

Far  from  Tarentum's  native  soil  I  lie, 

Far  from  the  land  beloved  of  infancy. 

*Tis  dreadful  to  resign  this  mortal  breath ; 

But  in  a  stranger-clime  'tis  worse  than  death. 

It  is  not  life  to  pass  our  fever'd  age 

In  ceaseless  wanderings  o'er  the  world's  wide  stage ; 

But  me  the  Muse  has  ever  loved,  and  given 

Sweet  joys  to  counterpoise  the  curse  of  heaven ; 

*  By  this  is  meant  the  evening,  when  the  sun  seems  to  move  more 
rapidly  than  at  any  other  time.  , 

Edwards's  selection.  303 

Nor  lets  my  memory  decay,  but  long 

To  distant  times  preserves  my  deathless  song.     J.  H.  M. 

A  long  way  from  the  soil  of  Italy, 

And  bitterer  to  me  than  death,  I  lie, 

Not  in  Tarentum  fatherland.     So  fares 

The  needy  wanderer.     But  the  tuneful  Nine 
Gave  me  their  love  and  sweets  in  lieu  of  cafes. 
And  no  oblivion  now  can  sink  my  name  ; 
For  to  all  time  the  Muses'  gifts  proclaim 

Leonidas,  where'er  the  orb  of  day  doth  shine.    H.  W. 
My  tomb  is  rear'd  far  from  Italia's  land. 
And,  what  is  worse  than  death,  Tarentum's  strand. 
Such  is  the  wanderer's  life.    The  Muses'  smile 
Cheer'd  my  lone  hours,  and  could  my  woes  beguile. 
The  Muses'  gifts  perpetuate  my  name, 
And  to  all  times  Leonidas  proclaim.  M.  A.  S. 


Sit  here  under  the  black  poplars,  traveller,  since  you 
are  tired,  and  drink,  going  near  to  our  rill ;  but  remem- 
ber the  fountain,  even  when  you  are  far  away,  which 
Simus  built  up  near  his  deceased  child  Gillus. 
Stay,  weary  traveller,  stay ! 

Beneath  these  boughs  repose  ; 
A  step  out  of  the  way 

My  little  fountain  flows.  * 

And  never  quite  forget 
The  monumental  urn, 
Which  Simus  here  hath  set. 

His  buried  child  to  mourn.     C.  M. 

Beneath  these  poplars  rest  thee,  passer-by. 

And  cool  thy  parch'd  lips  in  my  gushing  wave  ; 
Nor  let  this  fountain  fade  from  Memory's  eye. 
Which  Simus  built  to  mark  his  Gillus'  grave. 

J.  W.  B. 

Not  even  a  lion  in  the  mountains  is  as  terrible  as  was 
Crinagoras,  the  son  of  Micon,  amidst  the  clatter  of  shields. 
But  if  the  covering  (of  the  ground)  be  small,  do  not  find 


fault.     The  place  is  little ;  but  it  knows  how  to  produce 
men  enduring  in  battle. 

Fiercer  than  lion  on  the  mountain's  height 

Was  Micon's  son  amidst  the  clash  of  shields. 
Scorn  not  his  little  tomb  ;  his  country's  site 
Is  small ;  but  war-enduring  men  she  yields. 

M.  A.  S. 


The  cows  came  wretched  of  their  own  accord  to  their 
shed  from  a  mountain,  covered  with  much  snow.  Alas ! 
alas !  Therimachus  was  sleeping  his  long  sleep  near  an 
oak,  for  he  had  been  put  to  rest  by  a  fire  from  heaven. 

Cover'd  with  snow,  the  herd,  with  none  to  guide, 
Came  to  the  stall  adown  the  mountain's  side. 
For,  ah !  Therimachus  beneath  an  oak 
Slept  the  long  sleep,  from  which  he  ne'er  awoke ; 
Sent  to  his  slumber  by  the  lightning's  stroke. 

J.  W.  B. 

What  avails  it  to  suflFer  the  pains  of  child-birth  ?  what 
to  have  brought  forth  children  ?  Let  her'not  be  a  mo- 
ther, who  is  about  to  see  the  death  of  her  child.  For 
over  the  young  Bianor  his  mother  heaped  up  *  a  monu- 
ment. This  it  was  fitting  for  the  mother  to  have  obtain- 
ed from  her  boy. 

Why  travail  we  in  childbirth  ?   Far  better  not  give  breath 
By  useless  pangs  to  babes  fore-doom'd,  and  see  their  early 

This  tomb,  to  young  Bianor  raised,  a  mother's  care  bestows. 
When  'tis,  alas !  the  tribute,  which  a  son  the  mother  owes. 

H.  W. 

^On  every  side  around  the  tomb  are  thorns  and  stakes. 
You  will  hurt  your  feet  if  you  approach.^     I,  Timon 

*  Here  x^vaTo  seems  to  have  the  sense  of  ^xca^e. 
»— '  The  distich  between  the  numerals  is  omitted  in  Eton  Extr. 
Ep.  122. 

Edwards's  selection.  305 

the  man-hater,  dwell  within.     But  pass  by.    After  bid- 
ding you  to  have  many  a  groan,  (I  say)  only  pass  by. 

Sharp  thorns  and  stakes  be9et  this  tomb  all  round ; 
Stranger,  approach  it  not,  your  feet  you  11  wound. 
Timon  the  misanthrope  dwells  here.    Pass  on. 
And  vent  your  curses  as  you  pass.     Begone.        H.  W. 


Here  lies  BKpponax  the  verse-maker.  If  you  are  a 
knave,  come  not  near  the  tomb ;  but  if  you  are  a  good 
man  and  (come)  from  honest  (parents),  sit  down  with 
confidence ;  and  if  you  like  it,  take  a  nap. 

Hipponax  the  verse-satirist  lies  here. 

If  thou'rt  a  worthless  wretch,  approach  not  near ; 

But  if  well-bred,  and  from  all  evil  pure. 

Sit  here  with  confidence,  and  sleep  secure.         Fawkes. 

Here  lies  Hipponax,  to  the  Muses  dear. 

Traveller,  if  conscience  stings,  approach  not  near ; 

But  if  sincere  of  heart,  and  free  from  guile. 

Here  boldly  sit,  and  even  sleep  awhile.  J.  H.  M. 


A  Nymph  carried  off  Astacides,  who  was  a  Cretan,  and 
a  goat-herd,  from  a  mountain ;  and  now  Astacides  lives 
as  a  holy  person  imder  the  Dictsean  oaks.  No  longer 
shall  we  shepherds  sing  of  Daphnis,  but  Astacides. 

CCCCXLIX.    WESTMINSTER,   3   BOOK,    65   EP. 

I  wept,  my  Heracleitus,  when  they  told 

That  thou  wert  dead ;  I  thought  of  days  of  old, 

How  oft  in  talk  we  sent  the  sun  to  rest. 

Long  since  hast  thou,  my  Halicamassus'  guest. 

Been  dust ;  yet  live  thy  nightingales  ;  on  these 

The  all-plund'ring  hand  of  Death  shaU  never  seize. 

•  Hay. 
ccccl.   eton  extracts,  138  ep. 

Lycus  the  Naxian  perish'd  not  on  shore ; 
Both  bark  and  life  he  lost  amid  the  roar 


Of  the  rough  billows,  from  ^gina  sailing. 

His  corpse  floats  there ;  and  I,  his  unavailing, 

Tenantless  tomb,  proclaim — "  O  never  be. 

What  time  the  Kids  are  setting,  far  at  sea."    J.  W.  B. 

Not  upon  land  did  Naxian  Lycus  die, 
Himself  and  ship  beneath  the  deep  waves  lie. 
While  from  ^gina  trafficking  he  went, 
The  sea  engulfed  him ;  I'm  his  monument ; 
From  whom  this  truthful  warning,  sailor,  gain — 
When  the  Kids  set,  tempt  not  the  dangerous  main. 

M.  A.  S. 

CCCCLI.   WESTMINSTER,    1    BOOK,      57   EP. 


CCCCLin.  120   — 


Timonie,  who  art  tliou  ?  By  the  gods,  I  should  not 
have  known  thee,  had  not  the  name  of  thy  father  Timo- 
theus  been  on  the  pillar,  and  of  Methymna,  thy  (native) 
city.  Well  do  I  assert  that  thy  husband  Euthymenes  is 
greatly  pained  as  a  widower. 

CCCCLV.   WESTMINSTER,    11    BOOK,  49   EP. 

OOOCLVI.  —       —      51   — 

OCCCLVn.  —       —      63   — 


In  a  shady  grove  of  Locris  did  the  Nymphs  wash 
from  their  fountains  the  corpse  of  Hesiod,  and  raised  up 
a  tomb;  and  shepherds  wetted  it  with  the  milk  of  goats 
after  mixing  it  with  yellow  honey.  For  such  (a  honied) 
voice  did  the  old  man  breathe  out,  after  he  had  tasted  the 
pure  riQs  of  the  Muses. 

Deep  in  a  shady  Locrian  glade 

The  Wood-Nymphs  Hesiod's  funeral  made. 

They  wash'd  his  corpse,  they  raised  a  mound, 

While  shepherds  on  that  hallow'd  ground 

The  stream  of  milk  and  honey  poiu''d 

To  him  whom  all  their  hearts  sulored. 


For  why  ?    Because  the  Muses  nine 

Once  fed  him  from  their  font  divine  ; 

And  from  that  hour  the  poet's  song 

Like  milk  and  honey  floVd  along.  J.  W.  B. 

On  Hesiod's  corpse,  in  Locris'  shady  deU, 

By  hands  of  Nymphs  the  stream  from  fountains  felL 

A  tomb  they  rear'd.     The  swains  libations  brought 

Of  milk  of  goats  with  yellow  honey  fraught. 

For,  having  tasted  of  the  Muses'  rOl, 

Strains,  mix'd  like  milk  and  honey,  did  he  trilL     M.  A.  S. 


For  thee,  Pylades,  who  art  gone,  the  whole  of  Hellas 
laments,  after  cutting  to  the  akin  its  dishevelled  hair. 
And  Phoebus  himself  has  laid  down  the  laurel  from  his 
uncut  locks,  while  honouring,  as  is  just,  his  own  minstrel. 
The  Muses  too  have  shed  tears ;  and  Asopus  stayed  his 
stream,  on  hearing  the  sound  from  mournful  mouths ; 
and  dwellings  ceased  from  the  Dionysian  dance,  since 
thou  art  gone  the  road  to  Hades,  strong  as  steel. 


Unwept  and  unburied,  O  traveller,  we  lie  here,  on 
this  tomb  ^  of  Thessaly,  thrice  ten  thousand  men,  a  great 
calamity  to  jEmathia.  But  that  bold  breath  of  Philip 
has  departed,  more  lightly-bounding  than  fleet  stags. 

Unmoum'd,  unburied,  traveller,  we  lie. 
Three  myriad  sons  of  fruitful  Thessaly, 
In  this  wide  fleld  of  monumental  clay, 
^tolian  Mars  had  mark*d  us  for  his  prey ; 
Or  he,  who,  bursting  from  th'  Ausonian  fold 
In  Titus'  2  form,  the  waves  of  battle  roll'd, 

*  The  Greek  is  rv/ijSy.  But  how  persons,  who  are  desqribed  as  un- 
buried, could  be  said  to  lie  ivi  rvfifit^,  it  is  difficult  to  understand.  From 
the  expression  ry  5*  iirt  vwry,  in  the  parody  by  Philip  in  the  next  Epi- 
gram, it  is  pretty  evident  that  Alcseus  wrote  vwry. 

'  By  "  Titus,**  Merrivale  says,  is  meant  Titus  Flaminius ;  for  the  Epi- 
gram was  written  by  Alcseus  of  Mess^n^  against  Philip,  a  king  of  Mace- 
don,  whom  Titus  Flaminius  defeated  at  Cynoscephalffi,  as  we  learn  from 
Liry  and  Plutarch,  quoted  by  Jacobs. 

X  2 


And  taught  iBmathia's  boastful  lord  to  run 
So  swift,  that  swiftest  stags  were  by  his  speed  undone. 

J.  H.  M. 

Unwept,  unhonour*d  with  a  grave, 

Full  thrice  ten-thousand  warriors  brave, 

Sons  of  Thessalia,  here  lie  sleeping, 

Well  worthy  they  Thessalia's  weeping. 

Yet  Philip  too,  though  proud  and  bold. 

Full  soon  his  fleeting  days  were  told. 
Gone,  swift  as  stags  that  scour  along  the  wold.       T.  F.  R. 


Unbarked  and  leaflless,  traveller,  is  this  cross  fixed 
up  to  the  skies  on  the  baftk  of  (the  earth)  for  Alcseus. 

Unbark'd  and  leafless,  passenger,  you  see 

Fix'd  in  this  mound  Alcaeus'  gallows-tree.  J.  H.  M. 


This  is  the  monument  of  the  Samian  Philsenis ;  but 
do  you,  man,  bear  with  me  in  addressing  you,  and  come 
neai:  the  pillar.  I  am  not  she,  who  described  the  acts 
occurring'  amongst  women,  and  who  thought  nothing 
of  the  goddess  of  Shame.  I  (was)  a  friend  to  Modesty. 
If,  however,  some  one  has  concocted  a  scandalous  story  to 
disgrace  me.  may  time  disclose  his  name ;  and  may  my 
bones  be  delighted  at  my  repelling  the  harsh  report. 


By  the  oath  held  in  honour  amongst  the  dead,  we,  the 
daughters  of  Lycambes,  who  have  obtained  a  hateful 
reputation,  did  not  disgrace  our  virginity,  nor  our 
parents,  nor  Paros,  the  most  exalted  of  holy  islands. 
But  against  our  family  has  Archilochus  blurted  out  a 
freezing  reproach  and  a  hateful  report.  By  the  gods 
and  demons,  we  never  knew  Archilochus,  either  in  the 
street,  nor  at  the  great  shrine  of  Juno.     If  we  had  been, 

^  This  is  perhaps  the  best  rendering  of  vpotravrri. 


lascivious  and  full  of  frowardness,  he  never  would  have 
been  willing  to  have  lawful  children  by  us. 


To  Pitana  they  Thrasybulus  bore 

A  corse  upon  his  shield.     From  Argive  swords 
Seven  wounds  his  sire  observed  all — ^wounds  before, 

And  at  the  blazing  pyre  pronounced  these  words — 
"  Tears  are  for  cowards.     None,  my  son,  for  thee. 
So  worthy  thou  of  Sparta  and  of  me."  Hat. 

Lifeless  to  Pitana  from  Argive  field 

Was  Thrasybulus  carried  on  his  shield. 

Seven  wounds  he  show'd  in  front.     His  aged  sire 

Placed  his  dead  son  upon  the  funeral  pyre. 

And  said — "  Be  cowards  wept  for.     With  no  tear 

My  own  and  Sparta's  son  1*11  bury  here."      M.  A.  S. 


Against  the  columns  of  the  enemy  Demsenet^  sent  her 
eight  sons,  and  buried  them  all  under  one  pillar.  Nor 
did  she  burst  into  tears  for  sorrows ;  but  this  only  did 
she  say — "  These  children,  Sparta,  cUd  I  bear  for  thee." 

Demseneta  had  sent  against  the  foe 

Eight  sons,  whose  common  sepulchre  you  see : 

No  tear  was  shed,  and  heard  no  voice  of  woe. 

But  only — "  Sparta,  these  I  bore  for  thee."      Hat. 

Eight  sons  Demseneta  at  Sparta's  call 

Sent  forth  to  fight ;  one  tomb  received  them  all. 

No  tear  she  shed,  but  shouted — "  Victory  ! 

Sparta,  I  bore  them  but  to  die  for  thee."  G.  S. 

Eight  sons  Demaeneta  to  battle  sent. 

And  buried  all  beneath  one  monument ; 

No  tears  she  shed  for  sorrow,  but  thus  spake— 

"  Sparta,  I  bore  these  children  for  thy  sake."      M.  A.  S. 



Do  not,  Philonymus,  bum  Euphrates,  nor  pollute  the 
fire  through  me.     I  am  a  Persian  descendant,  a  genuine 


Persian,  ay,  O  master;  and  to  pollute  fire  is  to  ns  a 
thing  more  bitter  than  death.  But  do  you  wrap  me 
round  and  consign  me  to  earth.  Nor  sprinkle  ablutions 
on  my  corpse.     I  reverence,  master,  the  rivers  likewise. 

Oh !  master !  shroud  my  body,  when  I  die, 

In  decent  cerements,  from  the  vulgar  eye. 

But  burn  me  not  upon  your  funeral  pyre, 

Nor  dare  the  gods,  nor  desecrate  their  fire. 

I  am  a  Persian  ;  'twere  a  Persian's  shame 

To  dip  his  body  in  the  sacred  fiame. 

Nor  o'er  my  worthless  limbs  your  waters  pour ; 

For  streams  and  fountains  Persia's  sons  adore. 

But  give  me  to  the  clods  which  gave  us  birth ; 

For  dust  to  dust  should  go,  and  man  to  earth.       C.  M. 

Master,  bum  not  Euphrates.     Persia's  race 
I  am,  and  genuine  too.     Pollute  not  fire 

Through  me.    The  act  would  bring  with  it  disgrace 
Greater  than  death,  and  e'en  of  gods  the  ire. 

Give  me  to  earth,  shroud- wrapt ;  nor  water  shed 

Upon  my  corpse.     The  water-god  I  dread.  G.  B. 

Burn  not  Euphrates'  corpse,  a  Persian  bom ; 

My  last  request,  O  master,  do  not  scorn ; 

With  us  to  give  our  bodies  to  the  fire 

Is  worse  than  e'en  in  torments  to  expire. 

Swathed,  but  unwash'd,  my  corpse  to  earth  consign ; 

I  honour  rivers  too  with  rites  divine.  M.  A.  S. 

A  Lacedaemonian  mother  killed  Demetrius  a  Lacedae- 
monian, who  had  transgressed  the  laws.  For  placing  a 
sharpened  sword  in  advance  of  her,  and  gnashing,  al- 
though a  woman,  her  sharp  teeth,  like  a  she-wolf^  she 
said — "  Perish,  thou  cowardly  whelp ;  thou  evil  portion  ;* 

'  As  a  Laconian  woman  would  scarcely  gnash  her  teeth  more  violently 
than  any  other  person,  the  poet  probably  wrote  Avcacva,  as  shown  by  the 
subsequent  aKvXccKiVfia,  not  Adxagva,  which  is  foimd  in  Antipater's  Ep. 
509,  where  there  is  no  allusion  to  a  whelp. 

'  Instead  of  KaKrj  fiipicy  which  is  scarcely  intelligible,  one  would  have 
preferred  KuKijc  ykpaQ,  **  the  glory  of  a  cowardly  woman  " — on  the  prin- 
ciple of  "  Nascuntur  simili  prole  puerperte  ** — similar  to  the  English— 
"  'Jke  father,  like  son." 

Edwards's  selection.  311 

go  to  Hades ;  go.  Him,  who  is  not  worthy  of  Sparta,  I 
did  not  bear." 

Demetrius,  when  he  basely  fled  the  field, 

A  Spartan  bom,  his  Spartan  mother  kill'd. 

Then  stretching  forth  the  bloody  sword,  she  cried, 

Her  teeth  fierce  gnashing  with  disdainful  pride — 

"  Fly,  cursed  offspring  to  the  shades  below, 

Since  proud  Eurotas  shall  no  longer  flow 

For  timid  hinds,  like  thee.    Fly,  trembling  slave, 

Abandoned  wretch,  to  Pluto's  darkest  cave. 

This  womb  so  vile  a  monster  never  bore  ; 

Disown'd  by  Sparta,  thou  *rt  my  son  no  more." 

J.  H.  M. 

A  Spartan  mother  slew  her  Spartan  child 

Demetrius — since  valour's  laws  he  broke. 
The  keen -edged  sword  she  brandish'd,  and  she  smiled 

With  gnashing  teeth,  a  Spartan  smile,  and  spoke— 
"  Go,  blasted  plant ;  in  darkness  veil  thy  head, 

Eurotas'  waters  blush  for  hinds,  like  thee  ; 
Base  whelp,  I  bore  thee  not ;  go  to  the  dead. 

Unworthy  thou  of  Sparta  and  of  me."  Hat. 

Her  Spartan  son  a  Spartan  mother  slew, 
Demetrius,  to  his  country's  laws  untrue. 
Laconian-hke,  she  thrust  the  sharpen'd  sword, 
And  spoke  with  gnashing  teeth  the  bitter  word — 
"  Go,  coward  whelp,  vile  wretch,  to  Hades  flee. 
Unworthy  both  of  Sparta  and  of  me."  M.  A.  S. 


Let  not  this,  Philaenis,  be  too  much  at  your  heart,*  if 
you  have  not  met  with  the  fated  earth  by  the  Nile. 
But  this  tomb  of  Eleuthem^^  holds  thee;  for  the  road 
to  those  going  to  Hades  is  equal  on  all  sides. 

1  Jacobs  lias  happily  conjectured  BTriKdpSiov  for  iirikaipiov — 
*  Instead  of  iKivBipirjgt  vainly  defended  by  Jacobs,  Meineke  has  adopt- 
ed, what  Reiske  suggested,  *EX«v8lpviyc>  which  was  the  name  of  a  town 
in  Crete. 


Grieve  not,  Philjenis,  though  condemn'd  to  die 

Far  from  thy  parent  soil  and  native  sky ; 

Though  strangers'  hands  must  raise  thy  funeral  pile. 

And  lay  thy  ashes  in  a  foreign  isle : 

To  all  on  death's  last  dreary  journey  bound 

The.  road  is  equal,  and  alike  the  ground.       J.  H.  M. 


O  father  Jove,  hast  thou  ever  seen  any  other  man 
superior  to  Othryades,  who  alone  was  unwilling  to  re- 
turn from  Thyrea  to  his  native  Sparta,  and  drove  a 
sword  through  his  side, '  after  writing  these  conspicuous 
words — "  Behold  the  spoil  (taken)  from  the  descendants 
of  Inachus." ' 


Thou  didst,  Philsenion,  perish  before  marriage  5  nor 
did  thy  mother  Pythias  lead  thee  to  the  seasonable  nup- 
tial chamber  of  a  husband,  but  after  disfiguring  pite- 
ously  her  cheeks  she  hid  thee,  fourteen  years  old,  in 
this  tomb. 


Why,  woman,  dost  thou  lift  up  thy  shameless  hand 
towards  heaven,  and  after  letting  down  thy  maddened 
locks  from  thy  godless  head,  surveyest  the  great  anger 
of  Latona?  Oh  thou  with  many  children,  lament  now 
for  the  contest,  bitter  and  founded  on  bad  advice.  For 
of  your  girls,  one  is  panting  near ;  another  is  on  the 
ground  with  her  breath  leaving  her ;  and  over  another 
heavy  fate  is  hanging.  Nor  is  this  the  end  of  your 
troubles ;  for  a  swarm  of  male  children  dead  is  strewed 
around.  Oh,  heavily  lamenting  their  birthday,  thou 
wilt,  Niob6,  become  thyself  a  stone,  worn  down  by 

* — '  The  Greek  is  at  present  AovXa  Karaypd^ac  VKvXa  nar  *lvaxiiav : 
■where,  although  ro/  'Ivaxt^ov  is  confirmed  by  AaKtSaifiSvtot  Kar' 
* Apy tiiaVf  found  in  a  fragment  of  Theseus,  in  Stobeeus,  T.  i.  p.  216,  Gaisf., 
where  the  same  story  is  alluded  to,  yet,  as  it  is  not  told  what  Othrvades 
wrote,  one  would  have  expected  to  &id  here,  ArjXa  ral*  iyypaif/ac — 
**  Sfft/X*  U^  dv  'IvaxiSdv  ** — For  such  was  the  constant  formula,  as  shown 
by  Valckenaer  on  Phoen.  585. 

Edwards's  selection.  813 


Few  subjects  briefly  treated  form  the  lays, 
For  which  Erinna  wears  the  Muse's  bays  ; 
Thus  fame  is  hers  ;  nor  o'er  what  she  hath  sung 
Hath  sable  night  its  shadowy  pinions  flung. 
But  o'er  our  works  is  dark  oblivion  spread  ; 
Though  numberless,  what  are  we  but  the  dead  ? 
Yes,  better  the  brief  notes  which  swans  ^  may  sing, 
Than  the  daw's  croakings  in  the  clouds  of  spring. 


ccoclxxiv.  eton  extracts,  143  ep. 

Orpheus,  'tis  thine  no  more  the  charmed  wood, 
Or  rocks,  or  herds  of  wild  beasts  unsubdued, 

To  lead  with  minstrelsy  ; 
No  more  to  lay  to  sleep  the  pelting  hail, 
Or  howling  winds,  or  snows  that  sweep  the  vale. 

Or  lull  the  roaring  sea. 
For  thou  art  gone  ;  and  o'er  thee  tears  were  shed  : 
For  Memory's  daughters  wept  the  minstrel  dead ; 

Wept  most  Calliope, 
Thy  mother.     Why  then  mourn  our  sons  that  die, 
When  not  the  chil<ken  e'en  of  gods  can  fly 

From  Pluto's  destiny.  T.  P.  R. 


Thou  hidest,  JEolian  land,  Sappho,  who  was  sung  of 
as  a  mortal  Muse  together  Mdth  the  immortal;  whom 
Venus  and  Love  unitedly  brought  up ;  with  whom  Per- 
suasion wove  the  ever-living  garland  of  the  Pierian  (god- 
desses), a  delight  to  Greece,  and  to  thyself  a  glory.  Ye 
Fates,  who  turn  the  thrice-twisted  thread  down  the 
distaff,  why  did  ye  not  weave  a  life  imperishable  for  the 
minstrel,  who  had  planned  the  imperishable  gifts  of  the 
Heliconian  (Muses)  ? 

*  This  allusion  to  swans  is  peculiarly  appropriate  in  the  case  of  Erinna ; 
for  that  bird  was  supposed  to  sing,  just  previous  to  its  death,  as  we  learn 
from  Ovid  especially  — "  Sic  ubi  tata  vocant  udis  abjectus  in  herbis  Ad 
Tada  Maeandri  concinit  albus  olor." 


Does  Sappbo  then  beneath  thy  bosom  rest, 
.^k)l]an  earth  ?  that  mortal  Muse,  confest 
Inferior  only  to  the  choir  above, 
That  foster-child  of  Venus  and  of  Love  ; 
Warm  from  whose  lips  divine  Persuasion  came^ 
Greece  to  delight,  and  raise  the  Lesbian  name. 
O  ye,  who  ever  twine  the  three-fold  thread. 
Ye  Fates,  why  number  with  the  silent  dead 
That  mighty  songstress,  whose  unrivall'd  powers 
Weave  for  the  Muse  a  crown  of  deathless  flowers  ? 

F.  H. 


This  tomb  be  thine,  Anacreon ;  all  around 
Let  ivy  wreath,  let  flowerets  deck  the  ground. 
And  from  its  earth,  enrich'd  with  such  a  prize, 
Let  wells  of  milk  and  streams  of  wine  arise. 
So  will  thine  ashes  yet  a  pleasure  know ; 
J£  any  pleasure  reach  the  shades  below. 

Anon.  Spectator. 

May  clustering  ivy  and  the  purple  bloom 
Of  meadows  ever  flourish  round  thy  tomb, 
Anacreon.  May  gushing  fountwns  flow 
Of  milk,  and  earth-sprung  wine  in  fragrance  glow ; 
To  give  thy  bones  and  ashes  a  delight. 
If  joy  may  reach  the  realms  of  death  and  night ; 
O  bard  beloved,  who  loved  of  lyre  the  sound, 
Cheer'd  life  with  love,  with  wine  its  troubles  drown'd. 


Anacreon,  around  thine  honoured  tomb 
May  clvist*ring  ivy-berries  ever  bloom ; 
Soft  meadow-flowers  put  on  their  purple  glow. 
And  snow-white  milk  from  welling  fountains  flow ; 
And  may  the  earth  for  thee  in  streams  profuse 
Pour  forth  the  vine's  most  fragrant  luscious  juice  ; 
That,  if  a  joy  can  reach  the  shades  below. 
Thy  bones  and  ashes  still  may  pleasure  know. 
Loved  friend  of  the  loved  lyre  ;  the  bard  who  steered 
His  course  through  life,  by  love  and  music  cheer'd. 



May  clust*ring  ivy  twine  around  thy  tomb, 
And  purple  meadows  shed  their  richest  bloom ; 
May  gashing  streams  of  foaming  milk  arise, 
And  wine  sweet-scented,  where  Anacreon  Hes. 
So  may  his  dust — if  in  the  dust  remain 
Of  feeling  aught — be  steep'd  in  bliss  again. 
Dear  bard,  to  whom  the  lyre  was  ever  dear. 
Well  skiU'd  through  life  with  love  and  song  to  che6r. 

F.  G. 


Oh!  stranger,  while  passing  by  the  slight  tomb  of 
Anacreon — if  any  benefit  has  come  to  thee  from  my 
books — ^ponr  on  my  ashes,  pour  liquor,  in  order  that  my 
bones  may  rejoice,  bedewed  Mdth  wine :  so  that  I,  to 
whom  there  was  a  care  for  the  wine-revelries  of  Dio- 
nysus— I,  who  was  brought  up  in  the  harmony  that 
loves  unmixed  wine,  may  even,  when  dead,  endure,  with- 
out Bacchus,  this  place,  due  as  a  debt  to  the  race  of  voice- 
dividing  beings. 

Pass  not,  my  friend,  Anacreon's  simple  grave — 

If  e'er  my  verses  aught  of  pleasure  gave — 

Pour  wine  libations,  that  the  joyous  rite 

My  very  bones  may  moisten  with  delight. 

The  mystic  revelries  of  Bacchus  taught 

The  bsupd,  whose  notes  with  powerful  wine  were  fraught ; 

In  this  last  home  of  man  I  cannot  dwell 

Without  the  jolly  god  I  loved  so  well.  Hat. 

O  stranger,  passing  by  this  simple  stone — 

If  sweet  the  singing  of  Anacreon 

Was  ever  to  thine  ear — these  bones  of  mine 

Delight  by  bathing  them  in  joy  and  wine. 

Well  I  the  mysteries  of  Bacchus  knew. 

And  how  to  steep  my  harmonies  in  hue, 

Like  the  strong  grape's  ;  and  now  I  loathe  th'  abode 

Destined  for  all,  without  mine  own  dear  god. 


Stranger,  who  passest  by  this  simple  grave. 
Where  lies  Anacreon — ^if  my  works  e'er  gave 


Delight  or  profit — pqur  upon  these  stones 
Of  grapes  the  liquor,  that  a  joy  mj  bones 
May  moisten'd  feel ;  and  I,  whose  every  thought 
Was  given  to  Bacchus'  revels — I,  who  sought 
The  harmony  that  wine  unmix'd  bestows, 
Shall  'neath  the  earth,  where  juice  of  grape  ne'er  flows. 
Endure  without  a  pang  this  horrid  place, 
Where  Death  exacts  his  due  from  all  the  human  race. 

G.  B. 

CCCCLXXVin.   WESTMINSTER,    4  BOOK,    19   EP. 

This  is  the  Zeno,  dear  to  Citium,  who  ran  to  heaven, 
not  by  placing  Pelion  upon  Ossa,  nor  did  he  go  through 
the  labours  of  Hercules ;  but  he  found  the  road  to  the 
stars  by  temperance  alone. 

Here  lies  the  Citian  Zeno.     Heaven  he  won, 

But  not  by  Ossa  piled  on  Pelion, 

Nor  as  the  meed  of  feats  Herculean  ;  nay — 

He  mounted  to  the  stars  by  Virtue's  way.        G.  & 


Not  by  disease  do  I,  Rhodop^,  and  my  mother,  Boisca 
lie  here,  nor  through  the  spear  of  foes;  but  we  our- 
selves did,  when  savage-looking  war  set  fire  to  the  city 
of  our  native  Corinth,  choose  a  spirited  death.  For  my 
mother  killed  me  with  an  iron  weapon,  that  cut  right 
through  me;  nor  did  she  unhappy  spare  her  own  Iffe; 
for  she  tied  her  neck  to  a  cord  placed  around  her  throat ; 
since  a  death  with  freedom  was  to  us  better  than  slavery. 

Here  sleeps  a  daughter  by  her  mother's  side ; 
Nor  slow  disease  nor  war  our  fates  allied. 
When  hostile  banners  over  Corinth  waved, 
Preferring  death,  we  left  a  land  enslaved. 
Pierced  by  a  mother's  steel  in  youth  I  bled ; 
She  nobly  join'd  me  in  my  gory  bed. 
In  vain  ye  forge  your  fetters  for  the  brave. 
Who  fly  for  sacred  freedom  to  the  grave.  Bl. 

Edwards's  selection.  317 


A.  Tell,  woman,  your  family,  name,  country.  B,  He 
who  begat  me,  was  Calliteles ;  my  name,  Prexo ;  my 
country,  Samos.  A,  Who  heaped  up  this  tomb  ?  B. 
Theocritus,  who  loosened  the  girdle  of  my  virginity,  pre- 
viously untouched.  A.  How  did  you  die  ?  B.  In  the 
pains  of  child-birth.  A.  Say  to  what  age  did  you  ar- 
rive 1  B,  I  was  twice  eleven  years  old.  A.  Were  you 
childless.  B.  No,  stranger ;  for  I  left  Calliteles  in  youth, 
a  son  still  an  infant  of  three  years  old.  A.  May  he 
reach  the  happiest  (and)  holy  ^  hair.  B.  And  your  life, 
way-farer,  may  Fortune  direct  in  every  thing  pros- 


This  is  the  monument  of  the  hoary-headed  Maronis, 
upon  whose  tomb  you  can  see  yourself  a  cup,  sculptured 
out  of  stone.  But  she,  fond  of  unmixed  (wine),  and  an 
everlasting  talker,  does  not  mourn  for  her  children,  nor 
for  the  father  of  her  children,  without  property;  but  even 
under  the  grave  she  laments  this  one  thing,  that  the 
chattel,  fit  for  Bacchus,  is  on  her  tomb  not  fall. 

This  tomb  Maronis  holds,  o'er  which  doth  stand 
A  bowl,  carved  out  of  flint  by  Mentor's  hand. 
The  tippling  crone,  while  living,  death  of  friends 
Ne'er  touch'd,  nor  husband's,  nor  dear  children's  ends. 
This  only  troubles  her,  now  dead,  to  think 
The  monumental  bowl  should  have  no  drink. 

Sir  Ed.  Sherburne. 

This  rudely  sculptured  porter-pot 

Denotes  where  sleeps  a  female  sot ; 

Who  pass'd  her  life,  good  easy  soul, 

In  sweetly  chirping  o'er  her  bowl. 

Not  for  her  friends  or  children  dear 

She  mourns,  but  only  for  her  beer. 

E'en  in  the  very  grave,  they  say. 

She  thirsts  for  drink  to  wet  her  clay ; 

*  Why  the  hair  of  old  age  should  be  holy,  it  is  diflScult  to  understand. 
Hence  in  lieu  of  tcp^v  one  would  have  preferred  ytpaprjv,  **  honoured — *' 


And,  faith,  she  thinks  it  very  wrong 

This  jug  should  stand  unfilled  so  long.     Bl. 



The  little  Cleodemus,  still  living  on  (mother's)  milk, 
while  planting  his  foot  over  the  side  of  a  vessel,  did  Bo- 
reas, truly  Thracian,^  cast  into  the  swell  of  the  sea,  and. 
a  wave  put  out  the  life  of  the  infant.  Thou  wast,  Ino, 
an  unpitying  goddess,  who  didst  not  ward  off  bitter  death, 
from  the  equal  in  age  to  Melicerto, 


Surely,  when  thou,  Aretemias,  hadst  placed,  from  out 
the  infernal  boat,  thy  foot  on  the  shore  of  Cocytus,  car- 
rying in  thy  young  arms  a  deceased  infant,  the  young 
iJorian  damsels,  in  Hades,  ^  pitied  thee,  on  hearing  of 
thy  death ;  whilst  thou,  carding^  thy  cheeks  with  tears, 
didst  tell  them  this  doleful  story.  "  I  was,  friends,  in 
the  pains  of  labour  with  twins ;  but  one  child  I  left  be- 
hind for  my  husband,  Euphron;  the  other  I  have  brought 
to  the  dead." 


This  lament  has  thy  mother,  Artemidorus,  uttered  at 
thy  tomb,  while  mourning  the  loss  of  thee,  twelve  years 
old.     "  The  whole  trouble  of  my  labour-pains  *is  lost  to 

*  For  the  Thracians  were  said  to  be  very  cruel. 

'  ■  Jacobs  quotes  very  appositely  Statius  Silv.  i.  253,  where,  on  the  arri- 
val of  Priscilla  in  Hades,  the  poet  feigns  **  Egressas  sacris  veteres  He- 
roidas  antris,  Lumine  purpureo  tristes  laxare  tenebras,  Sertaque  et  Elysios 
animae  preestemere  flores." 

*  In  lieu  of  ^aivovtra  Wakefield  would  read  paivovcra —  But  Jacobs 
compares  AaKpvoig  Kara^avOeiffa  in  Eurip.  Tro.  509,  where  however 
the  learned  are  equally  dissatisfied  with  tlie  common  reading. 

*— *  The  Greek  is  at  present  *QX«r  iftdg  wSlvog  6  wag  rcovog  kg  wovov, 
sg  irvpj  'Q\t9*  6  wafiftkXtog  yuvafikvov  KOLfiaTog :  where  Jacobs,  justly 
offended  with  Ig  irSvov^  prefers  kg  oiroSbv,  suggested  by  Scaliger.  But 
the  poet  probably  wrote  "Qixer* — ,  kg  (ttovov  kg  vvp  'Qtx60*  6  vaQ 
fuXkTTjg  ynvafikvifi  Kaftarog —  where  /liKkTiig  alludes  to  the  instructions 
'^ven  by  the  father. 

Edwards's  selection.  319 

labour;  to  fire  is  lost  the  trouble  all  luckless  of  (thy) 
parent ;  *  lost  is  the  desired  delight  in  thee.  Thou  hast 
gone  to  the  place  from  which  there  is  no  bending  back, 
and  no  return ;  nor  hadst  thou  reached  the  period  of 
youth,  my  child ;  but  instead  of  thee,  there  is  left  for  us 
a  pillar  and  a  voiceless  dust." 

O'er  thine  untimely  tomb,  Artemidore, 

Thy  mother  this  lament  was  heard  to  pour — 

"  My  throes  sharp  birth  has  pass'd,  of  fire  the  prey, 

And  with  thee  pass'd  thy  father's  toil  away ; 

Pass'd  my  fond  joy  in  thee — no  tongue  could  tell — 

Who  to  the  bourne  hast  gone,  impassable 

To  turning  feet,  ere  yet  within  thy  veins 

Danced  youth's  brisk  current     What  to  us  remains, 

Thy  sad  survivors,  now,  when  thou  art  gone, 

But  ashes,  and  dumb  dust,  and  piUar'd  stone." 

Fr.  Wrangham, 

Artemidorus  scarce  twelve  years  had  known. 
When  o'er  him  thus  his  mother  made  her  moan— 
"  For  fbneral  flames  my  son  beloved  I  bare  ; 
'  Vain  were  my  pangs  ;  and  vain  thy  father's  care. 
Our  joy  in  thee  is  lost ;  since  to  that  bourne 
Thou  'rt  gone,  whence  never  traveller  may  return. 
Ere  youth  was  reach'd :  of  thee  we  are  bereft ; 
A  stone  and  silent  dust  for  us  are  left."  M.  A.  S. 


Tears  o'er  my  Heliodora's  grave  I  shed. 

Affection's  fondest  tribute  to  the  dead. 

Oh !  flow  my  bitter  sorrows  o'er  her  shrine. 

Pledge  of  the  love  that  bound  her  soul  to  mine.^ 

Break,  break,  my  heart,  o'ercharged  with  bursting  woe. 

An  empty  oftering  to  the  shades  below. 

Ah !  plant  regretted  ;  Death's  remorseless  power 

With  dust  ungrateful  choked  thy  full-blown  flower. 

Take,  Earth,  the  gentle  inmate  to  thy  breast, 

And,  soft-entomb'd,  bid  Heliodora  rest.  Bl. 

Tears,  Heliodora,  on  thy  tomb  I  shed, 
Love's  last  Hbation  to  the  shades  below ; 


Tears,  bitter  tears,  by  fond  remembrance  fed. 
And  all  that  Fate  now  leaves  me  to  bestow. 

Vain  sorrows !  vain  regrets  !  yet,  loveliest,  thee. 
Thee  stiU  they  follow  in  the  silent  urn, 

Betracing  hours  of  social  converse  free. 
And  soft  endearments,  never  to  return. 

How  thou  art  torn,  sweet  flower,  that  smiled  so  fair  ; 

Tom,  and  thy  honour'd  bloom  with  dust  defiled  ; 
Yet,  holy  Earth,  accept  my  suppliant  prayer. 

And  in  a  mother's  arms  enfold  my  child.     J,  H.  M. 

Oh !  Heliodora,  for  thy  loss  I  shed 

These  tears,  my  last  sad  offering  to  the  dead ; 

Tears  on  thy  tomb,  which,  sadly  falling,  prove 

The  vain  memorials  of  my  hopes  and  love. 

In  vain  I  mourn  thee,  dearest ;  and  in  vain 

To  the  dread  powers  of  Acheron  complain. 

Where  is  my  much-loved  flower  ?  The  ruthless  hand 

Of  Death  has  pluck'd,  and  mix'd  it  with  the  sand. 

Earth,  nurse  of  all,  I  pray  thee,  on  thy  breast. 

Bid,  mother,  softly  bid  this  form  lamented  rest. 


Tears  on  thee,  Heliodora,  I  bestow. 

Last  pledge  of  love  in  Pluto's  realms  below  ; 

Tears,  bitter  tears,  unto  thy  memory  dear 

Libation  fond,  they  flood  the  sepulchre. 

Sad,  sad,  with  vain  affection  o'er  the  dead, 

I,  Meleager,  weep  thy  spirit  fled. 

Ah !  where 's  my  tender  flower  ?  Grim  Dis  has  spoil'd, 

Spoil'd  it,  and  dust  the  blooming  flower  has  soil'd. 

But  thee,  I  pray,  kind  mother  Earth,  afford 

Within  thy  arms  repose  to  the  deplored. 

Fr.  Wrangham. 


By  the  right  hand  of  the  god  Hades,  and  the  dark 
bed  of  the  unspeakable  Proserpine,  we  swear,  that  we  are 
truly  virgins  even  under  the  earth.  But  many  disgrace- 
ful things  has  the  bitter  Archilochus  blurted  out  against 

Edwards's  selection.  321 

our  virginity,  and  *  putting  into  verse  bad  language, 
applied  to  not  good  acts,  he  has  turned  woman  and  man 
to  war.*  Why  have  ye,  Pierian  (virgins),  turned  your- 
selves to  Iambic^  verses,  insulting  to  virgins,  by  your 
gratifying  a  not  holy  man  ? 

By  Pluto's  band  we  swear— an  awful  sign — 
And  the  dark  bed  of  gloomy  Proserpine, 
Pure  went  we  to  our  graves,  whate'er  of  shame 
And  vile  reproach  against  our  virgin  fame 
That  bitter  bard  pour'd  forth,  in  strains  refined 
Cloaking  the  foulness  of  his  slanderous  mind. 
Muses,  in  our  despite,  why  favour  thus 
The  false  Iambics  of  Arclnlochus  ?        J.  H.  M. 

By  his  right  hand,  who  rules  the  dead,  we  swear, 
By  Proserpine's  dread  name  and  darksome  lair, 
TVue  maids  are  we  ;  though  on  our  maidenhood 
Archilochus  pour'd  forth  his  venom's  flood. 
Each  nobler  theme,  that  fills  the  poet's  page, 
He  basely  left,  on  women  war  to  wage. 
Shame  on  ye.  Muses,  that,  poor  maids  to  harm, 
Could  thus  with  ribald  verse  the  miscreant  arm.     G.  S. 


Thee,  O  Charixenus,  a  most  sad  gift  for  Hades,  did 

* — *  The  Greek  is  'ApxiXoxoc'  iirsatv  ^k  KoXrjv  ^driv  oitK  ivi  icaXA 
*Bpya,  yvvcuKtiov  S'  irpairtv  ^c  iroKe/iov :  where,  to  ayoid  the  defect  in 
the  metre,  Graefe  suggested  'Ap%tXoxoc*  KoXrjv  d*  Miav —  But  though 
KoKbg  may  have  its  first  syllable  long,  as  frequently  in  Homer,  that  word 
would  scarcely  do  here ;  for  the  daughters  of  Lycambes  would  hardly 

5 raise  the  poetry  of  Archilochus ;  and  hence  we  find  KaKrjv  in  Planudes. 
loreover,  although  Jacobs  says  that  yvvaiKitoQ  means  here  "  a  war 
against  women,"  not,  as  elsewhere,  **  a  war  by  women,**  yet  he  has  failed 
to  support  80  novel  a  meamng.  The  author  probably  wrote,  as  trans- 
lated, voi&v  ik  KaK^  ^Tiv  oi)K  iirl  «aXd  "Epya,  yvvalKci  re  Kuvdp* 
irpavev  kg  v6\iuov — 

3  As  the  Iambic  verse  was  the  favourite  measure  of  comedy,  and  as 
the  early  comedy  was  chiefly  satirical,  it  is  here  used  in  the  same  sense. 
Jacobs  quotes  opportunely  from  Ovid,  "  ItOnbus  Tincta  Lycambeo  san- 
guine tela  dabit.*' 

322  GBEEK  AKTH0L06T. 

thy  mother  deck,  *  when  eighteen  years  old,  with  the 
(youth's  military)  dress.*  Surely  even  the  stones  made  a 
moan,  when  thy  equals  in  age  with  lamentations  bore 
thy  corpse  from  home  ;  and  fiiy  parents  howled  out  the 
sound  of  sorrow,  not  of  the  marriage  song.  Alas !  alas  ! 
for  the  falsified  pleasures  of  the  mother's  breast,  and  her 
vain  pains  of  cluldbirth.  O  Fate,  a  virgin  harsh  (and) 
barren,  thou  hast  cast  to  the  winds  the  affection  of  pa- 
rentage. It  is  for  former  associates  to  regret,  but  for 
parents  to  sorrow,  and  for  those,  who  knew  him  not,  on 
hearing  (of  his  death)  to  pity. 

Thee,  poor  Charixenus,  in  youth's  first  bloom, 
Thy  mother's  hands — an  offering  for  the  tomb — 
Deck'd  with  the  martial  stole.     The  very  stone 
Made  to  thy  moaning  friends  responsive  moan, 
As  thy  sad  corpse  from  home  they  bore,  and  sent 
No  hymeneal  strain,  but  sad  lament. 
Alas !  of  mother's  breast  the  bounteous  store 
How  ill  repaid !  how  vain  the  pangs  she  bore  I 
Unfruitful  Fate !  thou,  maid  of  ruthless  mind. 
Hast  given  a  mother's  yearnings  to  the  wind. 
Here  friends  can  only  wish,  and  parents  weep, 
While  they,  who  knew  him  not,  feel  pity  for  death's  sleep. 

J.  H.  M, 

Not  Hymen,*  but  Hades,  did  Clearista  receive  as  a 
young  husband,  having  been  loosened  as  to  the  band  of 
virginity.  For  just  now,  a;t  evening,  were  the  lutes 
sounding  at  the  portals  of  the  bride,  and  the  doors  of 
the  bridal  chamber  were  making  a  din.  But  in  the 
morning  they  resounded  with  the  howl  of  sorrow ;  and 
Hymen,  after  becoming  silent,  fitted  himself  by  a  change 
to  the  voice  of  lamentation ;  and  the  very  pitch-pines, 
that  had  yielded  a  torch-light  near  the  nuptial  chamber, 
pointed  out  the  road  below  to  her  who  had  died. 

* — *  On  the  military  dress  worn  by  youths  of  eighteen  at  Athens,  and 
probably  elsewhere,  see  at  Plato's  Menexenus,  §  21. 

*  To  preserve  the  personification,  ydfioVf  literally  **  marriage,"  has 
been  rendered  **  Hymen." 

Edwards's  selection.  323 

The  Mome,  which  saw  me  made  a  bride, 
That  evening  witnest  that  I  dyed. 
Those  holy  lights,  wherewith  they  guide 
Unto  the  bed  the  bashful  bride, 
Served  but  as  tapers  for  to  bume, 
And  light  my  reliques  to  their  ume. 
The  Epitaph,  which  here  you  see, 
Supplyed  the  Epithalamie.  Hebbice. 

Cleurista,  when  she  loosed  her  virgin  zone, 

Found  in  the  nuptial  bed  an  early  grave  ; 
Death  claim'd  the  bridegroom's  right ;  to  death  alone 

The  treasure,  guarded  for  her  spouse,  she  gave. 
To  sweetest  sounds  the  happy  evening  fled, 

The  flute's  soft  strain  and  hymeneal  choir  ; 
At  morn  sad  bowlings  echo  round  the  bed, 

And  the  glad  hymns  on  quivering  lips  expire. 
The  very  torches  that,  at  fall  of  night. 

Shed  their  bright  radiance  o'er  the  bridal  room. 
Those  very  torches,  with  the  morning's  light, 

Conduct  the  victim  to  the  silent  tomb.         J.  H.  M. 

Her  virgin  zone  unloosed,  Cleurista's  charms 
Death  clasps,  stem  bridegroom,  in  his  iron  arms. 
Hymns  at  the  bridal  doors  last  night  were  sung. 
Last  night  the  bridal  roof  with  revels  rung. 
This  mom  the  wail  was  raised  ;  and  hush'd  and  low. 
The  strains  of  joy  were  changed  to  notes  of  woe ; 
And  the  bright  torch,  to  Hymen's  hall  that  led. 
With  mournful  glare  now  lighted  to  the  dead. 

Fr.  Wrangham. 

Not  Hymen,  it  was  Hades'  self  alone. 

Who  loosen'd  Clearista's  virgin  zone. 

And  now  the  evening  flutes  are  breathing  round 

Her  gate ;  the  closing  nuptial  doors  resound. 

The  morning  spousal  song  was  raised  ;  but,  oh  ! 

At  once  'twas  silenced  into  sighs  of  woe ; 

And  the  same  torches,  that  the  bridal  bed 

Had  lit,  now  show'd  the  pathway  to  the  dead.     Hat, 

The  cmel  Fates  to  Clearista  gave, 
Alas !  no  husband,  but  a  wedded  grave. 

Y  2 


Erewhile,  at  eve  there  reign'd  the  bridal  booTy 

And  lute  and  jocund  din  assail'd  her  bower. 

The  dawn  brings  shrieks ;  the  hymeneal  song 

Is  hush'd ;  sad  strains  the  dirge  of  woe  prolcmg. 

The  self-same  torch  that  lit  the  nuptial  dome, 

Shows  the  drear  passage  to  her  last  long  home.     6.  Bo. 


Fearless,  O  stranger,  walk ;  for,  near  to  the  pious,  does 
an  old  man,  put  to  rest,  sleep  the  sleep,  paid  as  a  debt, 
namely,  Meleager,  the  son  of  Eucrates ;  he,  who  dressed 
the  sweetly-crying  ^  Love  and  the  joyous  Muses  *  in  the 
mantles  of  Graces ;  he,  whom  Tyre,  god-descended,  and 
the  holy  land  of  Gradara,  brought  up  in  manhood,  and 
Cos,  beloved  by  the  Meropes,  nourished  in  old  age.  If 
thou  art  a  Syrian,  say  "  Salam ;"  but  if  a  Phoenician, 
*'  Audonis;"^  but  if  a  Greek,  "  Chsere;"^  the  words 
mean  the  same  thing. 


The  island  of  Tyre  was  my  nurse ;  the  country  of 
Athis,  inhabited  by  the  Assyrian  Gadari,  was  my  mo- 
ther ;  and  I,  Meleager,  the  son  of  Eucrates,  grew  up  in 
the  society  of  the  Muses,  ®  after  having  run  and  gained 
the  first  prize  with  the  graces  of  Menippus.®  But  if  I 
am  a  Syrian,  what  is  the  wonder  ?  We  inhabit,  stranger, 
the  world,  one  country  (to  all) ;    (and)  one  Chaos  has 

*  Although  Love  is  frequently  represented  as  crying,  yet  he  is  not  else- 
where described  as  yXvKvdaKpvQ,  The  perpetual  epithet  is  yXvKviriKpov 
— which  should  be  written  here. 

*  As  the  Graces  were  rather  elegant  than  joyous,  one  would  prefer,  as 
translated,  Movcrac  IXapdg— Xdpitrtv  to  Moutrag  ikapdig — XdpKTiv. 

*  In  lieu  of  'Saidibc  Scaliger  suggested  Avdovlg,  remembering  the  pas- 
sage in  Plautus  Paenul.  v.  2, 41,  where  a  Carthaginian,  whose  language  was 
similar  to  that  of  Phoenicia,  is  represented  as  making  a  salutation  by  the 
word  "  Haudonis." 

*  The  Greek  word  x^*P*»  ^  Latin  "  chasre,"  has  been  of  necessity 
preserved  here. 

* — *  So  Jacobs  translates  TIp&Ta  M-ivivrirHaig  evvrpoxdffag  Xapitriv : 
and  he  refers  to  Epigr.  Inc.  572,  Movaai  "MeXkaypov — Mtviwirsiaie  Xd- 
pi(n,  as  emended  by  Holstein  and  Martin. 

Edwards's  selection.  325 

produced  all  mortals.  On  the  tablets  placed  in  front  of 
my  tomb  have  I,  a  man  of  many  years,  engraved  these 
words ;  for  old  age  is  a  near  neighbour  to  death ;  but 
mayest  thou,  biddmg  a  talkative  old  man  farewell,  arrive 
thyself  at  a  talkative  old  age. 

Tyre  was  my  island-nurse^ — an  Attic  race 

I  boast,  though  Gadara  my  native  place — 

Herself  an  Athens.     Eucrates  I  claim 

For  sire,  and  Meleager  is  my  name. 

From  childhood  in  the  Muse  was  idl  my  pride ; 

I  sang,  and,  with  Menippus  side  by  side, 

Urged  my  poetic  charjot  to  the  goaL 

And  why  not  Syrian  ?    To  the  free-bom  soul 

Our  country  is  the  world,  and  all  on  earth 

One  universal  Chaos  brought  to  birth. 

Now  old,  and  heedful  of  approaching  doom. 

These  lines,  in  memory  of  my  parted  bloom, 

I  on  my  picture  trace,  as  on  my  tomb.         J.  H.  M. 


A  tomb  near  the  tops  of  the  Thracian  Olympus  holds 
Orpheus,  the  son  of  the  Muse  Calliop^ ;  whom  oaks  did 
not  disobey ;  whom  the  lifeless  stone  followed,  and  the 
herd  of  wood-ranging  wild  beasts;  who  formerly  in- 
vented the  mystic  rites  of  Bacchus,  and  formed  the  verse 
joined  together  by  the  heroic*  foot :  who  ^with  his  lyre 
soothed  the  heavy  thoughts  of  Clymenus,  not  to  be  soft- 
ened, and  his  feelings  not  to  be  assuaged.^ 


Here,  after  raising  his  shield  as  an  aider  in  behalf  of 
Ambracia,   did   Aristagoras,  the  son  of  Theopompus, 

*  So  called  from  its  being  applied  to  sing  the  deeds  of  heroes.  Its 
technical  name  is  Hexameter. 

«— *  To  avoid  the  insufferable  tautology  in  the  words  dfutkiKToto  fiap^ 
KXvfuvoio  v6fifia  Kai  rbv  &KfjiKfirov  Ovfibv  WikU  Xwp^ —  one  would  have 
preferred  ifut^iitroio  Kopiyc  KXv/ikvov  re  v6fifia  Kai  Kvva  KtiXtiOfioiQ  jtfibv 
iOtXKt  Xvpgt---  For  thus  KoptiQ  would  mean  Proserpine,  KXvfuvovt 
Pluto,  and  Kvva,  Cerberus. 

326  GBEEK  anthology/ 

choose  to  die  rather  than  to  fly.  Feel  no  surprise.  A 
Dorian  man  thinks  on  his  country  destroyed^  not  on  his 
own  youth. 


By  Jupiter,  who  presides  over  hospitality,  we  beg  of 
thee,  man,  on  our  knees,  to  go  to  the  ^olian  Thebes, 
and  tell  our  father  Charinus  that  Menis  and  Polynicus 
are  dead ;  and  may  you  say  this — that  we  do  not  lament 
for  our  death  by  treachery,  although  we  perished  by 
the  hands  of  Thracians,  but  for  his  old  age,  lying  under 
a  sad  bereavement. 


O  Phocsea,  thou  city  of  renown,  this  last  word  did 
Theano  pronounce,  when  descending  to  cheerless*  night 
— "  Woe 's  me,  the  unhappy  !  What  sea  art  thou,  Apel- 
lichus,  my  husband,  passing  over  in  thy  own  vessel, 
while  death  is  standing  near  me?  Oh!  how  I  wish  to 
have  died,  laying  hold  of  your  dear  hand  with  my 

These  the  last  words  Theano,  swift  descending 

To  the  deep  shades  of  night,  was  heard  to  say — 
"  Alas !  and  is  it  thus  my  life  is  ending. 

And  thou,  my  husband,  far  o'er  seas  away  ? 
Ah  !  could  I  but  that  dear  hand  press  in  mine 
Once— once  again — all  else  I  would  resign."    J.  H.  M. 

Her  absent  spouse  Theano  thus  address'd, 

When  at  Phocaea  death  upon  her  pressed — 

"  Ah  me  I  ApeUichus,  why  far  remain, 

And  with  thy  fragile  bark  still  plough  the  main  ? 

Death  hovers  o'er  me !     Would  that  I  could  lie 

With  thy  dear  hand  in  mine,  and  calmly  die."    M.  A.  S. 

To  cheerless  night  as  she  descended  fast, 

These  words  Theano  spoke — they  were  her  last — 

*  As  &rpvytroc  means  literally  where  there  is  "  no  grape-gathering," 
the  season  of  festivity,  it  may  be  fairly  translated  cheerless. 
^  Jacobs  aptly  compares  **  Te  teneam  moriens  deficiente  mano." 


"  Apellichus,  my  husband,  where  doth  roam 

Thy  bark  on  seas  far  from  Phocaea's  home, 

While  death  stands  near  me  ?  Oh  that  I  might  hold 

Thine  hand  in  mine,  till  feeling  all  is  cold.''  G.  B. 


Boldness  carries  a  man  to  hell  and  heaven.  It  caused 
Dorothens,  the  son  of  Sosander,  to  come  upon  a  funeral 

Sile.     For,  while  bringing  a  day  of  freedom  to  Phthia, 
e  was  lost  between  ^  Seci  and  Chimara.^ 


I  am  the  tomb  of  a  person  shipwrecked ;  yet  do  thou 
sail.  For  when  we  were  lost,  oUier  vessels  passed  over 
the  sea  successfully.* 

D.    THE  SAME. 

O  Theudotus,  (thou  art)  a  great  tear-shedding  to  tliy 
relations,  who  lamented  thee  dead,  after  they  had  lighted 
thy  unhappy  ftmeral  pyre,  O  thou  with  a  sad  thread 
(of  life  and)  a  very  immature  ^  (death) ;  for  instead  of 
marriage  and  youth  thou  hast  left  to  thy  dearest  ^  mother 
lamentations  and  griefs. 


Archianax,  of  three  years  old,  while  playing  round  a 
well,  did  the  mute*  image  of  his  form  draw  to  itself; 
but  from  the  water  did  the  mother  snatch  him  wet- 

> — ^  Branck  considers  these  two  words  as  the  names  of  obscure  places 
in  Thessaly. 

*  The  whole  point  of  the  Epigram  will  be  lost,  unless  we  read  eS  for  a2, 
as  translated. 

*  Although  Tplc  is  constantly  used  to  express  the  excess  of  any  thing, 
yet  it  could  hardly  be  applied  to  atapoQ,  "  immature."  Hence  one  would 
prefer  rpiq  dfioipi — where  there  would  be  an  allusion  to  the  Fates,  who 
were  three,  but  all  equally  fatal  to  man. 

*  As  the  word  ^iiorg  would  be  rather  applied  to  a  child  than  its 
mother,  the  poet  probably  wrote  here  dXyiary — 

*  Jacobs  quotes  opportunely  from  Ovid— "visaB  correptus  imagine 
formae  Bem  sine  corpore  amat" 


ted  thoroughly,  and  examined  whether  he  exhibited  any 
particle  of  life.  And  the  infant  had  not  brought  a  pollu- 
tion upon  the  water ;  but  while  lying  on  the  Knees  of  its 
mother,  it  fell  into  the  deep  sleep  (of  death). 

Archianax  was  three  years  old, 

When  playing  round  a  well. 
Lured  by  its  lifeless  image  there, 

He  on  the  surface  fell. 
The  mother  snatch'd  her  drowning  child 

From  out  the  ruthless  wave, 
To  see  what  sign  of  life  might  be, 

Though  slight,  her  boy  to  save. 
Oh  I  he  would  not — that  infant  child— 

The  Nymphs'  fair  home  defile ; 
But  slumb'ring  on  hi^  mother's  knees. 

He  slept  in  death  the  while.  T.  P.  R. 

DII.    ZENODOTUS;  some  sat  EHIANUS. 

Mayest  thou,  O  dirty  ground,  cause  to  roll  along  me 
on  every  side  the  rough  thorn,  or  the  savage  umbs 
of  the  crooked  bramble,  so  that  not  even  a  bird  may  in 
spring  fix  its  light  foot  over  me,  and  I  may  be  in  a  de- 
sert, reclining  in  quietness;  for  I,  Timon,  the  man-hater, 
the  man  loved  not  even  by  fellow-citizens,  am  a  corpse 
not  loved  *  in  Hades. 

Twist  round  me,  thou  rough  earth,  the  prickly  thorn  ; 

Let  the  crook'd  savage  bramble-branch  adorn 

My  tomb,  that  birds  of  spring  may  shun  the  place. 

And  I  may  rest  alone  in  perfect  peace. 

Unloved  of  all,  the  misanthrope  am  I, 

Timon,  of  whom  e'en  Pluto's  self  is  shy.  Hat. 

Dili.    ZONAS  OF  SARDIS,  called  also  DIODORUS. 
Do  thou,  who  rowest  the  boat  of  the  dead  in  the  water 

>  Such  is  the  meaning  attached  by  Reiske  and  Jacobs  to  yvtivio^.  But 
how  the  word,  that  signifies  elsewhere  "genuine,"  can  be  taken  in  that 
sense,  it  is  difficult  to  understand.  The  poet  probably  wrote,  not  oW 
'At^jj  yvrifftSc  elfii  vicwc,  but  wd*  'AtSy  yric  <Ttv*c  «i/*»  r^Kvg,  L  e.  **  ana 
thus  in  the  grave  a  corpse  hurtful  to  the  earth — " 


of  this  lake^  full  of  reeds,^  for  Hades,^  having  a  painful 
task,  stretch  out,  dark  Charon,  thy  hand  to  the  son  of 
Cinyras,  as  he  mounts  '  on  the  ladder  by  the  gang-way, 
and  receive  him.  For  his  sandals  will  cause  the  lad  to 
slip  about ;  and  he  fears  to  put  his  feet  naked  on  the 
sand  of  the  shore.* 


Over  thy  head  I  will  heap  with  my  hands  the  cold 
sand  of  the  sea-shore,  and  pour  it  oyer  thy  frozen  corpse. 
For  thy  mother  has  not,  lamenting  at  thy  tomb,  *  seen 
the  fate  of  thee  worn  away  by  the  sea  in  the  sea ;  *  but 
the  desert  and  inhospitable  rocks,  near  the  jEgean  shore, 
have  received  thee ;  so  that  receive  thou,  O  stranger,  a 
small  portion  of  the  sand  ®  and  much  of  tears,  since  thou 
hast  come  to  a  fatal  mercantile  venture. 

Accept  a  grave  in  these  deserted  sands, 

That  on  thy  head  I  strew  with  pious  hands  5 

For  to  these  wintry  crags  no  mother  bears 

The  decent  rites,  or  mourns  thee  with  her  tears. 

Yet,  on  the  frowning  promontory  laid, 

Some  pious  dues,  Alexis,  please  thy  shade. 

A  little  sand  beside  the  sounding  wave, 

Moisten'd  with  flowing  tears,  sh^  be  thy  grave.    Bim 

^  Compare  Shakspeare's— 'Mike  the  fat  weed  that  rots  on  Lethe's 
banks."  Jacobs  quotes  from  Propertius — "  sedeat  Stygia  sub  arundine 

^  In  lieu  of  'Atdiit  or,  as  some  read,  *Aidy,  one  would  prefer  'Addrjv,  to 
be  united  to  ^x^^  divvast  where  ix^^  ^  ^^^  to  Reiske,  who  justly  ob- 
jected to  *Xu»v — 

^  Salmasius  correctly  altered  ii^aivovTi  into  iftJ^aivovri — 

*  Jacobs  quotes  opportunely  from  Statins,  **  ipse  avidas  trux  navita 
cymbae  Interius  steriles  ripas  at  adusta  subibit  Littora,  ne  puero  dura  as- 
cendisse  facultas." 

* — ^  The  Greek  is  tldev  aki^avrov  ohv  fiSpov  tlv6Xiov,  But  to  avoid 
the  inelegant  repetition  of  a\i — and — aXtov,  one  would  prefer —  aXiKdv- 
Tov  obv  ii6pov,  ait  ftiXf  ov,  i.  e.  "  the  fate,  alas !  hapless  of  thee,  worn  down 
by  the  sea:  "  and  thus  aXiKdvrov  would  agree  with  oov,  understood  in 
ffbv — 

*  Jacobs  quotes  appositely  from  Horace  — > "  Pulyeris  exigui  prope 
littus  panra  Matinum  Munera." 



If  a  jay,  who  formerly  chattered  frequently  with  a 
voice  responsive  to  herdsmen  and  wood-cutters,  and  fish- 
ermen, and  frequently,  like  Echo,  that  sends  back  the 
sound,*  screeched  out  an  abusive  combination  (of  words) 
with  lips  speaking  in  reply,  now,  after  falling  to  the 
ground,  lie  here  without  a  tongue  and  without  a  voice,* 
denying  my  love  for  mimicry. 


A,  Tell,  pillar,  the  parent  of  the  person  below,  and 
his  name  and  country,  and  subdued  by  what  fate  he 
died.  B.  His  father  was  Priam ;  his  country,  Hium  ; 
his  name.  Hector ;  and,  O  man,  he  perished  fighting  for 
his  country. 


Not  even  though  dead,  shall  I,  Theris,  driven,  when 
shipwrecked,  by  the  waves  to  land,  be  forgetful  of  the 
sleepless  shore.  For  under  a  neck  (of  land),  where  the 
sea  breaks,  near  the  hostile  main,  have  I  met  with  a  tomb 
at  the  hands  of  a  stranger.  And  I  unhappy  hear,  even 
amongst  the  dead,  the  hatefrd  sound  of  me  sea  ever 
booming ;  nor  has  the  grave  given  me  rest  from  troubles; 
since  I  alone,  though  dead,  do  not  lie  in  gentle  quiet- 

I,  Theris,  wrecked  and  cast  a  corpse  on  shore, 
Still  shudder  at  old  Ocean's  ceaseless  roar ; 
For  here  beneath  the  cliffs,  where  breakers  foam. 
Close  by  the  sea  a  stranger  dug  my  tomb. 
Hence  still  its  roaring,  reft  of  Hfe,  I  hear  ; 
Its  hateful  surge  still  thunders  in  my  ear. 

*  In  lieu  of  voXvOpooy,  the  sense  requires,  as  translated,  iraXlvOpooc— 
applied  to  &x^ — 

*  Jacobs  compares  Statius  in  Sylv.  II.  iy.  2,  '*  Humanae  solers  imita- 
tor, Psittace,  linguae — affatus  etiam  meditataque  yerba  Reddlderas ;  at 
nunc  letema  silentia  Lethes  lUe  canorus  habet." 

\   Edwards's  selection.  331 

For  me  alone,  by  Fate  unrespited, 

Eemains  no  rest  to  soothe  me,  e'en  though  dead. 

Fe.  Wbangham. 


Oh !  thou  leader  of  the  dead  to  Hades,  thou,  delight- 
ed with  the  tears  of  all,  who  ferriest  over  this  deep 
water  of  Acheron,  do  not,^even  if  your  skiff  is  heavy 
with  the  ghosts  of  the  dead,  leave  behind  me,  Diogenes 
the  dog.  I  bring  with  me  a  basin,  and  a  staff,  and  a  gar- 
ment twice  folded,  and  a  wallet,  and  a  farthing  for  thy 
boat-trip.  These  articles  alone  when  living  I  possessed, 
which  I  bring  here  even  dead;  and  I  have  left  not  a 
single  thing  under  the  sun. 


Thy  mother  herself,  who  bore  thee,  Demetrius,  gave 
thee  to  death,  when  thou  hadst  been  a  coward  contrary  to 
what  was  proper,  and  she  bathed  a  war-(weapon  in  blood) 
within  thy  hollow  flanks;  and  she  said,  while  holding 
the  steel  weltering  in,  and  ftdl  of,  the  blood  of  her  own 
son,  and  moving  her  jaw,*  full  of  foam,  with  a  noise  like 
a  saw,  and  looking  Hke  a  Laconian  woman,  with  eyes 
turned  aside — "  Quit  the  Eurotas ;  go  to  Tartarus ;  since 
thou  hast  known  a  coward's  flight,  thou  art  not  mine, 
nor  a  Laconian." 

Thy  mother  gave  thee  death,  thou  'dst  basely  fled : 
Through  thy  deep  flank  the  sword  thy  mother  sped, 
Demetrius  ;  she  that  bare  thee  ;  and  she  cried. 
With  hand  upon  the  steel  thy  life-blood  dyed. 
Champing  her  foaming  lip  in  furious  wise, 
And  Sparta's  daughter  glaring  in  thy  eyes — 
"  Eurotas  spurns.  Hell  calls  thee  ;  thou  could'st  flee, 
Craven  ;  thou  'rt  nought  to  Sparta,  nought  to  me." 

G.  S. 

*  The  author  seems  to  use  here  ysveiov,  "  cheek,"  for  yiwv,  "jaw." 


This  is  the  place,  where  Leander  swam  over ;  ^  this 
the  passage  over  the  sea,  that  was  hostile  not  to  the  male 
lover  alone ;  this  was  the  former  dwelling  of  Hero  ;  this 
the  remains  of  the  turret;  here  was  placed  the  treacher- 
ous lamp.  This  common  tomb  holds  them  both,  who 
even  until  now  are  blaming  that  envious  wind. 


This  Magnesian  tomb  is  not  of  Themistocles;  but  I 
am  heaped  up,  as  a  monument  of  the  envious  and  incor- 
rect judgment  of  the  Greeks. 

Ausonian  dust  possesses  me  a  Libyan  woman,  and 
neat  Rome  I  lie  a  virgin  by  this  sea-sand ;  and  Pompeia, 
who  brought  me  up  in  the  place  of  a  daughter,  wept  over 
me,  and  put  me  in  the  tomb  of  a  freed  person,  while  she 
was  hastening  (for  me)  another  fire;*  but  ^this  came 
before-hand  ;  nor  did  Proserpine  light  the  lamp  accord- 
ing to  our  prayer.^ 


Oh !  hapless  Nicanor,  who  didst  meet  with  thy  fate  in 
the  ocean,  white  (with  foam),  thou  liest  naked  on  a 
strange  sea-shore,  or  near  to  rocks  :  and  all  those  happy 
homes  of  thine  are  no  more,  and  the  hope  of  all  Tyre  has 
peiished;  nor  has  aught  of  thy  possessions  been  thy 
guard.  Alas !  piteously  hast  thou  perished,  having  la- 
boured for  the  fishes  and  the  sea. 

Doom'd,  poor  Nicanor,  to  the  hoar  sea- wave, 

Naked  thou  liest  on  a  foreign  coast, 
Or  haply  'neath  some  rock.     Thy  palace  brave 

Is  gone  for  aye,  and  all  Tyre's  hopes  are  lost. 

*  The  Greek  is  diciTrXooe,  literally  "  sailed  over — " 

'  By  "  another  fire  "  is  meant  that  of  the  nuptial  torch. 

*— *  As  Proserpine  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  hridal  lamp  except  to 

extinguish  it,  one  would  prefer  CiSe  Trap*  eitx^v — "  thus  contrary  to  our 

prayer — **  to  oi/di  xar*  eifxfjv — 


Of  all  thy  wealth  nought  saved  thee  ;  vain  thy  toil ; 
And  all  its  fruits  for  fish  and  sea  the  spoil.  G.  S. 


The  parents  of  Aristippus  felt  joy  and  sorrow  for  their 
child.  One  day  had  a  share  in  both.  For  after  he  had 
fled  from  a  house  on  fire,  Jupiter  sent  direct  against  his 
head  the  ineffable  glare  of  lightning ;  and  this  word  did 
those,  who  wept  over  his  corpse,  say — '^  Oh !  thou  un- 
happy, who  didst  owe  a  debt  to  the  fire  of  the  deity !  " 


Heliodorus  was  the  first  to  go,  and  his  wife  Dioge- 
neia  followed  her  dear  husband  after  scarcely  the  inter- 
val of  an  hour ;  and  as  both  had  dwelt  together,  they  are 
entombed  in  one  spot,  delighted  with  a  common  sepul- 
chre, as  with  a  (common)  marriage-bed. 


^  Thy  fate  was  changed  for  death,^  and  in  the  place  of 
thee,  my  master,  I,  a  slave,  filled  up  a  hateful  tomb,  when 
I  was  making  thy  lamented  grave  under  the  earth,  in 
order  that  I  might  bury  there  the  body  of  thee  deceased ; 
but  the  hollowed-out  dust  slipped  around  me.  Hades 
however  is  not  disagreeable  to  me.  I  shall  live  ^  under 
thy  sun.'* 


And  who  is  he,  that,  after  weeping  for  a  son,  has  not 
endured  the  extreme  of  ill  ?  But  the  house  of  Poseidip- 
pus  buried  all  the  four  children ;  whom  days  of  death, 
equal  in  number  (to  those  of  the  children),  snatched 

* — >  Such  is  the  literal  version  of  the  unintelligible  Greek— 'HXXox©*! 
Oavaroio  tsoq  fiopog  :  which  Jacobs  says  may  mean — "  Thy  death  cost 
me  my  life.*'  But  how  such  a  meaning  can  be  elicited  from  those  words, 
it  is  difficult  to  understand. 

« — ^  The  Greek  is  top  obv  vv*  rjsXiov :  which  Jacobs  explains  by — 
"  imder  thy  protection,"  or  "  in  thy  presence,**  a  meaning  those  words  can 
hardly  bear.  Perhaps  the  author  wrote,  S*  wv  trbs  ^ff*  »7€Xtow— "  being 
thine  at  a  distance  from  sun-light  "—i.  e.  in  the  grave. 


away,  and  cut  off  the  great  hopes  entertained  of  them ; 
but  the  wretched  eyes  of  the  father,  flooded  by  showers 
of  sorrow,  were  destroyed ;  and  one  common  night  lays 
hold  of  alL 


Othryades,  the  great  glory  of  Sparta,  and  the  naval 
warrior  Cynegeirus,  and  the  deeds  of  all  battles,  has 
Arrius,  the  Italian  spearman,  surpassed.  Having  fallen 
at  the  stream  of  the  Nile,  and  half-dead  from  many 
arrows,  when  he  saw  the  eagle  of  his  own  army  seized 
upon  by  the  enemy,  he  sprung  up  again  from  the  dead, 
renowned  in  fight,  and  killing  the  party,  who  was  carry- 
ing it,  (the  eagle,)  he  preserved  it  for  his  own  leaders,  and 
alone  obtained  a  deatJi  unconquered. 

Let  Cynegeirus'  name,  renown'd  of  yore. 

And  brave  Othryades,  be  heard  no  more. 

By  Nile's  swoln  wave  Italian  Arrius  lay, 

IVansfix'd  with  wounds,  and  sobb'd  his  soul  away ; 

But  seeing  Rome's  proud  eagle  captive  led, 

He  started  from  the  ghastly  heaps  of  dead ; 

The  captor  slew ;  the  noble  prize  brought  home, 

And  found  death  only  to  be  not  o'ercome.  J.  H.  M. 


Over  the  change  iu  the  fate  of  her  two  children  their 
mother,  throwing  herself  around  both,  pronounced,  an 
object  of  pity,  these  words — ^^  On  this  dav  I  did  not  ex- 
pect to  lament  over  thy  corpse,  my  child ;  nor  to  see 
thee  too  amongst  the  living.  But  the  demons  ^  have  been 
changed  as  regards  you  two,  while  a  not-lying  sorrow 
has  come  upon  me." 


O  thou  hapless  one!  with  what  word  shall  I  ad- 
dress thee  first  ?  with  what  last,  thou  hapless  one  ?  for 

*  Such  is  the  proper  meaning  of  daifiovig  here. 

Edwards's  selection.  335 

this  one  word  is  true  in  every  ill.  Thou  art  gone,  my 
charming  wife,  after  carrying  off  the  highest  honours 
for  the  beauty  of  form  and  the  moral  conduct  of  soul; 
and  truly  was  thy  name  Prot^  (first) ;  for  every  thing 
was  second  to  thy  inimitable  grace. 


^The  earth  was  called  also  my  mother;^  the  earth 
hides  me,  even  a  corpse.  This  is  not  worse  than  that.' 
In  this  I  shall  be  for  a  long  time.  From  my  mother  *  has 
the  burning  heat  of  the  sun  snatched  me  away.  And  I 
lie  in  a  strange  land  under  a  heap  of  stones,  the  much- 
lamented  Inachus,  the  obedient  servant  of  Crinagoras. 


Why  do  we,  wretched,  wander  about,  trusting  to  vain 
hopes,  and  forgetful  of  calamitous  death.  This  was  Se- 
lecus,  in  all  respects  exact  in  conversation  and  con- 
duct, but  enjoying  a  short  period  of  youth.  In  the 
extreme  Ibena,^  distant  twice  as  far  as  Lesbos,  he  lies  a 
stranger  on  unmeasured  sea-shores. 


Other  islands  too  have  denied  their  previous  names  of 
no  note,  and  have  come  to  bear  the  same  name  as  men.*^ 
And  may  you  likewise  be  called  ^^Erotides"  (the 
Lovely).  There  will  be  no  anger  from  Nemesis  against 
you  for  making  this  change  in  the  name.     For  to  the 

1 — >  Such  is  the  literal  translation  of  the  Greek  r^  fiev  rai  fifirtjp 
KiKXrjffKtro,  words  not  easy  to  understand.  Perhaps  the  author  wrote, 
"H  Kaivrj  firjTtip  jcijcXiitrwro,  "  She,  who  has  been  called  anew  mother — ** 

*  If  the  alteration  proposed  on  vs.  1  be  correct,  we  must  read  here, 
oiKtiTj  Trjffde  x«P«*orlpi|,  "  my  own  home  (was)  worse  than  this :"  and  in 
3,  Kaivy  for  ^ctry. 

»  As  there  is  mention  made  of  two  mothers,  it  is  evident  the  author 
did  not  write  fitiTpbg :  but  what  he  did  write,  it  is  not  easy  to  discover. 

♦  Jacobs  imagines  that  Seleucus  went  to  Spain  to  study  rhetoric,  which 
was.  much  cultivated  there  at  that  time. 

^  Brodeeus,  says  Jacobs,  has  given  some  examples  of  names  of  places 
thus  changed  out  of  compliment  to  persons  of  celebrity. 


boy,  whom  ye  have  placed  in  the  tomb  under  a  holy 
sod,  Love  himself  had  given  a  name  and  form.  O 
land,  Hhat  still  sees  the  monument,^  and  0  sea,  near 
the  shore,  mayest  thou  (the  former)  lie  lighdy,  and  thou 
(the  latter)  quietly. 

Full  oft  of  old  the  islands  changed  their  name, 

And  took  new  titles  from  some  heir  of  fame ; 

Then  dread  not  ye  the  wrath  of  gods  above, 

But  change  your  own  and  be  the  "  Isles  of  Love.'* 

For  Love's  own  name  and  shape  the  infant  bore, 

'Whom  late  we  buried  on  your  sandy  shore. 

Break  softly  there,  thou  never-weary  wave. 

And  earth,  lie  lightly  on  his  little  grave.        J.  W.  B, 


A  hostile  association  hurled  Cleitonymus  to  the  fishes 
and  sea,  when  he,  the  tyrant-killer,  arrived  at  the  cita- 
del. But  the  deity  of  Justice  buried  him.  For  the 
bank,  having  been  torn  away,  buried  the  whole  body 
from  foot  to  head,  and  he  lies  not  wetted  by  the  water ; 
and  the  earth,  reverencing  the  haven  of  her  own  free- 
dom,^ conceals  him. 

Lo !  to  the  fishes  and  the  stream  a  murd'rous  band  hath 

Cleitonymus,  who  came  to  slay  the  tyrant  in  his  hold. 
But  Justice  found  him  burial;  for  the  crumbling  bank 

gave  way. 
Duly  to  shroud  from  head  to  foot  the  hero,  as  he  lay. 
And  now  the  waters  drench  him  not ;  the  land  envelopes 

The  refuge  of  her  liberties  with  reverential  care.      H,  W. 

DXXV.   WESTMINSTER,   3   BOOK,   41   EP. 

Of  my  Theonoe  I  wept  the  death ; 
But  hope  parental  my  deep  woe  i*elieved  ; 

' — *  In  fftiuaroiffea,  which  Jacobs  confesses  he  cannot  explain,  lies 
hid  fffifi'  ir  ioovtra,  as  translated. 

*  With  this  expression  Jacobs  compares  that  in  Cicero,  De  Offic.  ii.  8, 
2,  where  the  senate  of  Rome  is  called  **  regum,  populorum,  nationum, 
portum,  et  refugium." 

Edwards's  selection*  337 

Now  of  my  boy,  too,  Fate  has  stopt  the  breath  ; 

And  e'en  in  what  was  left  I  live  deceived. 
Hear,  Proserpine,  a  father's  moans  and  prayer — 
Consign  the  babe  to  its  dead  mother's  care.       M.  A.  S. 

Oh!  mild  land  of  Tarentum,  retain  this  corpse  of  a 
good  man.  Deceptive  aire  the  fortunes  of  beings  of  a 
day.  For  Atymnius,  while  going  from  Thebes/  did 
not  proceed  farther,  but  found  for  himself  a  dwelling 
imder  thy  ground ;  and  quitting  life,  with  an  orphan 
child  still  surviving,  he  caused  it  to  be  deprived  of 
(parental)  eyes.*    Be  not  thou  a  tomb  hostile  to  him. 

Two  eyes,  the  buddings  from  thy  land,  Miletus,  has 
the  dust  of  Italy  covered  by  a  rapid  death,  and  thou 
hast  obtained  in  exchange  griefs  for  garlands;  their 
relics,  alas !  thou  hast  seen  put  up  in  a  small  urn.  Alas ! 
imhappy  country.  From  whence,  or  when  shalt  thou 
boast  again  of  such  stars  shining  in  Greece  ? 

Unhappy  Cleanassa,  thou  wert  a  damsel  seasonable 
for  marriage,  and,  as  it  were,  in  the  very  prime  of  youth. 
But  not  Hymen,  who  presides  over  wedlock,  nor  the 
torches  of  Juno  the  Yoker,  met  at  your  nuptial  cham- 
ber ;  but  mournful  Hades  revdBed  there ;  and  around 
did  a  Fury  of  blood  send  forth  an  ill-fated  voice  from 
her  mouth ;  and  on  the  day,  in  which  the  bridal  room 
was  lit  up  with  torches,  in  that  didst  thou  meet  with  a 
funeral  pyre,  not  the  marriage  bed. 

DXXIX.    WESTMINSTER,   3   BOOK,   42   EP. 


The  island  of  Pelops,  and  Crete,  where  sailing  is  diffi- 
cult, and  the  blind  simk-rocks  of  Malea,  when  it  is  be- 

'  The  town,  here  intended,  was  in  Apulia,  says  Jacobs. 
•  By  "  eyes  "  Brodaeus  understands  "  supervision." 


ing  doubled,^  have  destroyed  the  Cydonian  Astydamas, 
the  son  of  Damis ;  and  he  has  filled  the  stomachs  of  sea- 
monsters.  But  persons  have  placed  a  lying  tomb  on  the 
ground.  What  wonder  ?  where  the  Cretans  are  Kars  ;^ 
and  there  is  the  tomb  (even)  of  Jove. 


Not  because  care  has  been  wanting  to  me,  when  dead^ 
nor  that  I  lie  here  a  naked  corpse  upon  wheat-producing 
land,  *(do  I  complain,)*  for  I  have  been  formerly  buried ; 
but  because  now  the  iron  coulter  has  rolled  me  out  by 
the  hands  of  the  ploughman.  "Who  will  surely  say  that 
death  is  a  deliverance  from  ills?  since,  stranger,  not 
even  my  tomb  is  the  last  of  my  sufferings. 


A  long  age  shall  sing  of  thee,  Protesilaus  of  Thessaly, 
who  didst  begin  the  falling  (of  thy  body),  due  as  a  debt  to 
Troy.  Thy  monument,  sheltered  by  elms,  do  the  Nymphs 
bedeck,  (who  dwell)  opposite  to  hated  Ilion ;  ^  where  trees 
with  angry  feelings  shed  their  dry  foliage,  whenever 
they  behold  the  walls  of  Troy.*  How  great  then  was 
the  anger  felt  by  heroes,  since  a  portion  of  enmity  is 
preserved  even  now  in  lifeless  boughs ! 


Having  already  approached  near  to  my  native  land, 
I  said — "  To-morrow  will  my  long  and  difficult  voyage 
be  tired  out  against  me."     But  my  lips  had  not  yet 

'  Such  was  the  danger  in  doubling  Cape  Malea,  that  it  gave  rise  to  the 
proverb,  quoted  by  Jacobs,  MoXsav  <yv  Kafiyj/ag  kiriXaOov  rwv  oUdd^t 
i.  e.  "  On  doubling  Malea  forget  all  at  home.*' 

'  Here  is  a  reference  to  the  "well-known  verses  of  Callimachus — 
Kpijrcff  &€i  T^evtrrai*  Kai  ydp  ra^ov,  <J  5va,  tfiio  Kp^rfff  IreKr^avro* 
o\)  t*  oh  Odveg. 

« — ^  These  words  are  added  to  complete  the  sense. 

*— *  Jacobs  refers  to  Pliny,  N.  H.  xvi.  88,  "  Sunt  hodie  ex  adverse 
Iliensium  urbis,  juxta  Hellespontum,  in  Protesilai  sepulchre,  arbores, 
quae  omnibus  sevis,  cum  in  tantum  crevere  ut  Ilium  adspiciant,  ina- 
rescunt,  rursusque  adolescunt.** 

Edwards's  selection.  339 

closed,  when  the  sea  became  equal*  to  Hades.  Be  on 
your  guard  in  every  word,  and  in  ^^ to-morrow."*  Not 
even  the  least  things  of  the  tongue  lie  hid  ijpom  hostile 


Do  not  measure  by  the  Magnesian  tomb  how  great  is 
the  name  of  Themistocles,  nor  let  his  deeds  lie  hid  from 
you.  Form  a  conjecture  of  the  man,  who  loved  his 
country,  by  Salamis  and  the  vessels  there,  and  you  shall 
know  from  them  that  he  was  greater  than  the  land  of 


Let  these  stone  dwellings  ^  of  my  night,  which  con- 
ceals me,®  and  the  water  of  Cocytus,  around  which  are 
lamentations,  witness,  that  my  husband  did  not,  as  per- 
sons say,  murder  me,  while  looking  after  a  marriage  with 
another  woman.  Why  vainly  is  his  name  Runnius?* 
But  the  destined  Fates  carried  me  away.  Paulla  of 
Tarentum  is  surely  not  the  solitary  (wife),  who  has  died 
by  a  rapid  death. 


This  stone  upon  the  tomb  says  that  the  great  JEschy- 
lus  lies  here,  far  from  his  own  Cecropian  land,  by  the  . 
white  waters  of  Gela  in  Sicily.     Why,  alas!    does  an 
envy,  mixed  with  passion,  of  good  men  ever  possess  the 
descendants  of  Theseus  ? 

*  By  "  equal, "  Brodaeus  understands  "  dark,**  or  "  fatal  as — **  But  in 
leog  some  corruption  probably  lies  hid. 

'  The  sense  evidently  requires,  as  translated,  to  r*  avptov —  not  rbv 
avpiov — 

3 — 3  The  Greek  is  vvicrbg  ifJLrjgj  i)  fi*  licpv^fv —  One  would,  however^ 
prefer  vvKTbg^  ifibv  ff&fi*  ^  *Kp{f(ptv — 

*  Jacobs,  justly  objecting  to  'Pov^iviof,  explains  nevertheless  rl  fiarrjv 
*Pov<piviog  by  "  Why  does  Rufinius  vainly  labour  under  a  reproach  ?  ** 
But  such  a  meaning  these  words  could  scarcely  bear.  Perhaps  the  author 
wrote  ri  fidrriv  ovvofia  *Pv6<f>ovog, "  Why  in  vain  is  his  nameRuophonus  ?  ** 
i.  e.  a  defender  against  muinder. 

z  2 



Under  me,  O  stranger,  do  I  hold  Menander,  the  son  of 
Diopeithes,  a  descendant  of  Cecrops,  to  whom  Bacchus 
and  the  Muses  were  a  care :  he  has  a  litde  dust  from  the 
(funeral)  fire ;  but  if  you  are  seeking  *  the  man  himself,* 
you  will  find  him  in  the  dwelling  of  Jupiter  or  of  the 


Over  a  brave  man  of  Achsea  did  a  beloved  city  pay 
for  ^  this  inscription,  near  the  stream  of  the  well-watered 
Ascania,  and  Nicea  lamented  him;  but  his  father,  Di- 
omedes,  raised  up  over  him  this  lofty  stone  tomb,  un- 
happy, while  grieving  at  the  destructive  mischief;  for 
it  was  likely  that  the  son  would  pay  this  rite  to  him  on 
his  death. 

DXXXIX.   WESTMINSTEE,   2   BOOK,   58   EP. 


Bianor  inscribed  on  this  pillar,  not  for  his  mother  nor 
his  father,  their  fate,  paid  as  a  debt,  but  for  his  child,  a 
virgin ;  and  he  mourned,  while  leading  her  twelve  years 
old  as  a  bride,  not  to  Hymen,  but  to  Hades. 


Pass  by  the  pillar  over  me,*  neither  bidding  me  fare- 
well, nor  inquiring  who  I  am,  nor  from  whom.  Or  never 
may  you  fimsh  the  journey  you  are  pursuing ;  and  if 
you  pass  by  in  silence,  not  even  thus  may  you  finish 
what  you  are  pursuing. 

If  this  inscriptive  pillar  passing  by, 
Stranger,  thou  greet'st  mine  ashes  with  a  sigh, 
Invoke  my  name,  or  search  my  fmieral  um, 
May  all  the  gods  prohibit  thy  return. 

> — ^  Jacobs  ingeniously  suggests,  what  has  been  adopted,  rbv  avSpa 
for  ^kvavSpov, 
*  This  seems  to  be  the  sense  of  f]wffi  here. 
'  This  is  supposed  to  be  spoken  by  Timon,  the  man-hater. 

Edwards's  selection.  341 

But  if  in  silence  by  my  tomb  thou  go- 
Silence  unworthy  him,  who  rests  below — 
Still  shall  my  angry  ghost  thy  steps  attend, 
And  Furies  haunt  thee  to  thy  journey's  end.   J.  H.  M. 
The  pillar  o'er  this  tomb  pass  by ;  nor  say, 

"  Farewell ;"  nor  seek  who 's  here,  or  whence  he  <;ame ; 
Or  never  reach  the  spot,  where  ends  thy  way ; 

My  wish  for  thee,  in  silence  passing,  is  the  same.    G.  B. 

JElius,  the  bold  of  hand,  the  chief  man  at  Argos,  he, 
who  ornamented  his  neck  with  rings  of  gold  bound  to- 
gether, the  spoils  of  war,  did,  when  broken  down  by  a 
Kmb-wasting  disease,  have  recourse,  in  a  passion,  to  a 
manlike  testimony  of  his  former  deeds ;  and  drove  under 
his  entrails  a  broad  sword,  saying  this  only — ^^  War  does 
the  brave,  disease  the  cowards  kill." 


All  did  once  number  Aristodic^  amongst  the  renowned 
for  children,  in  having  six  times  removed  from  her  the 
difficulty  of  child-birtn.  But  the  water  contended  with 
earth  against  her.  For  three  children  perished  by  dis- 
ease, and  the  remainder  were  suffi)cated  in  the  sea. 
And  ever  heavy  in  tears  she  is  seen,  like  a  Nightingale 
*  on  tomb-pillars,  or  like  a  Halcyon,^  finding  fault  with 
the  deep. 

Thee,  Aristodice,  erst  all  admired. 

Proud  of  six  sons — though  born  in  grief  and  pfun ; 
Earth  with  the  sea  against  thy  peace  conspired — 

Three  have  the  waves,  and  three  disease  has  slain. 
Thou  weepest  at  their  tombs  a  Nightingale  ; 
Or  the  deep-chiding  Halcyon  seem'st  to  wail.     Hat. 


Not  the  jaws  ^  of  dogs  destroyed  thee,  Euripides,  nor 

' — *  Jacobs  refers  to  Antholog.  Lat.  ii.  p.  126,  where  the  nightingale, 
siren,  and  halcyon  are  similarly  introduced  as  the  symbQls  of  sorrow. 

*  In  lieu  of  jevoc  both  Scaliger  and  Toup  suggested,  what  is  here 
adopted,  ylia>c  for  yivoe — 


the  strong  passion  of  a  woman,  thee,  a  stranger  to  Venus 
that  loves  darkness,  but  Hades  and  old  age ;  and  thou 
liest  under  Arethusa  in  Macedonia,  honoured  by  the 
friendship  of  Archelaus.  And  this  I  do  not  put  down 
as  your  tomb,  but  ^the  boards  of  Bacchus,  and  the  bus- 
kins of  the  scene,  where  is  the  song  of  sorrow.^ 


I,  Philip,  who  first  caused  Emathia  to  go  to  war,  lie 
having  put  on  the  sod  of  -Egis,^  after  I  had  done  what 
no  king  had  before ;  but  if  any  one  boast  of  doing  aught 
greater  than  myself,  this  too  (comes)  of  my  blood. 

DXLVI.   WESTMINSTEE,    1   BOOK,  39   BP. 


Hades  obtained  Satyra,  near  the  time  of  parturition  ; 
but  the  dust  of  Sidon  conceals  her;  and  her  country. 
Tyre,  laments  for  her. 


A  gentle  old  age,  and  not  a  wasting  disease,  extinguish- 
ed thee ;  and  thou,  Eratosthenes,  hast  slept  the  sleep, 
due  as  a  debt,  after  having  carried  thy  thoughts  to  the  ex- 
treme  point  ;*  and  yet  Cyren^,  thy  nurse,  has  not  receiv- 
ed thee  within  the  tomb  of  thy  fathers,  thou  son  of 
Aglaus :  but  thou  art,  as  a  friend,  hidden  in  a  strange 
land,  by  this  border  of  the  shore  of  Proteus.'* 

* — *  The  Greek  isj^iiara  Kal  ffKTjvdc  ifiPakt  iretOofiBvag:  where  Ja- 
cobs has  suggested  prjfiaraj  Hermann,  l;i/3a^i,  and  Scaliger,  irsvOofuva^ 
— from  which  it  is  easy  tp  elicit  firifiara  koI  emivag  ififidda  vsvOofuXovc 
— where  TrtvOofitXovg  would  be  the  proper  epithet  for  the  dramatist  re- 
markable for  pathos.  With  respect  to  firifiara  and  ktifidda  Jacobs  refers 
to  Jul.  Pollux,  iv.  115,  KoOopvoi  rd.  T^ayiKd  (vrroSiffiara)  xal  kfi^dhci 
and  123,  t)  $h  hgxh^fpa  tov  xopov — ilrs  i^rifid  ri — sirs  (3(>}/i6c, 

^  Mgis,  says  Jacobs^  in  Macedonia,  was  the  burial-place  of  the  kings 
of  that  country. 

^  Instead  of  aKpa  one  would  prefer  dtrrpa,  in  allusion  to  the  work  of 
Eratosthenes,  called  Karacrrcpccr/iot. 

*  Eratosthenes  was  buried  at  Phiuros  near  Alexandria  in  Egypt,  where 
Prpteus  once  reigned. 

Edwards's  selection.  *       343 


Still  do  thy  ringlets,  Lysidic^,  ill-fated  girl,  drop  with 
salt  water,  when  thou  didst  perish,  like  a  shipwrecked 
person  in  the  sea.  For  as  die  water  rose  didst  thou, 
fearing  the  violence  of  the  sea,  fall  out  over  the  hollow 
vessel.  And  the  tomb  tells  thy  name  and  land  of  Cum^ ; 
but  thy  bones  are  washed  on  the  cold  shore,  an  ill,  bitter 
to  thy  father  Aristomachus ;  who,  while  conveying  thee 
to  a  marriage,  ^led  thee  neither  as  a  damsel  nor  a 

Cold  on  the  wild  wave  floats  thy  virgin  form ; 
Drench'd  are  thy  auburn  tresses  by  the  storm ; 
Poor  lost  Eliza  !     In  the  raging  sea 
Gone  is  my  every  joy  and  hope  in  thee. 
These  sad  recording  stones  thy  fate  deplore ; 
Thy  bones  are  wafted  to  some  distant  shore. 
What  bitter  sorrows  did  thy  father  prove. 
Who  brought  thee  destined  for  a  bridegroom's  love  ! 
Sorrowing  he  came,  nor  to  the  youth  forlorn 
Consign'd  a  maid  to  love,  nor  corpse  to  mourn.     Bl. 


The  dust  is  lately  dug,  and  on  the  faces  of  the  pillar 
shake  the  half-blooming  garlands  of  leaves.  Let  us, 
traveller,  examine  the  writing,  and  see  whose  white  ^ 
bones  the  stone  says  it  shrouds.  ^  ^^  Stranger,  I  am  Are- 
temias ;  my  country,  Cnidus.  I  came  to  the  bed  of 
Euphron.  I  was  not  without  a  share  of  the  pains  of 
parturition.  On  bringing  forth  two  children  at  the  same 
time,  one  I  left  as  a  guide  for  its  father's  feet,  and  one  I 
carried  away  in  remembrance  of  my  husband."* 

> — '  Although  one  might  perhaps  extract  something  like  sense  out  of  o{;rc 
ic^pijv  ijyayiv  ovrt  v'skvv,  yet  one  would  have  expected  rather  own,  Koptiy 
f^v  ayay\  tide  vskw — "  he  did  not  see  as  a  corpse,  whom  he  brought  as 
a  girl."    . 

*  The  reading,  Xcvcd,  found  in  the  margin  of  Cod.  Vat.,  is  far  preferable 
to  Xevpd — 

•— '  Only  the  words  between  the  numerals  are  in  the  Eton  Extracts, 
Ep.  130. 


The  ground  is  lately  dug ;  the  leaves  still  gre^i 

Of  garlands  on  the  pillar's  face  are  seen. 

The  writing,  traveller,  let  us  trace,  and  know 

Whose  whiten*d  bones  the  stone  says  rest  below,     G.  B. 

In'Cnidus  bom,  the  consort  I  became 
Of  Euphron,  Aretemia  's  my  name. 
His  bed  I  shared,  nor  proved  a  barren  bride, 
But  bore  two  children  at  a  birth  and  died. 
One  child  I  leave  to  solace  and  uphold 
Euphron  hereafter,  when  infirm  and  old ; 
And  one,  for  his  remembrance'  sake,  I  bear 
■  To  Pluto's  realm,  until  he  joins  me  there.     W,  C. 


Keep  off,  keep  off  your  hands,  land-labourer,  nor  cut 
round  the  dust  that  is  near  the  tomb.  The  very  sod 
has  been  wept  for,  and  from  what  has  been  so  wept  for 
no  bearded  corn  will  spring  up  again. 

Stay,  ploughman,  stay  thy  hand ; 
In  severing  the  dust  that  meulders  there, 

Thou  ploughest  through  a  grave. 

Tears  have  bedew*d  that  land ; 
And  o'er  the  sorrow-moistened  glebe  may  ne'er 

The  joyous  harvest  wave.  H.  W. 


When  Pyrrhus  performed  the  sorrowful  marriage  rites 
of  Polyxena,  in  honour  of  his  father,  over  the  tomb, 
puffed  up  with  pride,  thus  did  Hecuba  from  CissI 
lament,  after  tearing  lie  locks  of  her  much-weeping 
head,  the  murder  of  her  children — ^^  Formerly  didst  thou, 
-Sacides,  drag  Hector,  when  dead,  by  traces  attached 
to  the  chariot-wheels ;  and  now  thou  receivest  the  blood 
of  Polyxena.  Why  hast  thou  brought  such  pain  upon 
my  womb  ?  For  not,  even  though  dead,  art  ihoii  mildly 
disposed  towards  my  children." 

Edwards's  selection.  345 


For  a  locust  and  a  tettix  has  Myro  placed  this  monu- 
ment, after  throwing  upon  both  a  little  dust  with  her 
hands,  (and)  weeping  affectionately  at  the  funeral  pyre ; 
for  Hades  had  carried  off  the  male  songster,  and  Proser- 
pine the  other. 


Draw,  thou  hapless  one,  the  breast  from  thy  mother, 
which  thou  wilt  suck  no  more;  draw  the  last  stream 
from  her  just  dying ;  for  already  I  am  parting  with  my 
breath  from  sword  (wounds) ;  yet  even  in  death  I  have 
learnt  to  cherish  what  is  dear  to  a  mother. 

Suck,  little  wretch,  while  yet  thy  mother  lives ; 
Suck  the  last  drop -her  fainting  bosom  gives. 
She  dies ;  her  tenderness  survives  her  breath, 
And  her  fond  love  is  provident  in  death. 

Ttttlbb,  in  Bl. 

Webb,  in  H.  W. 

From  mother's  bosom  thou  wilt  suck  no  more ; 
Draw  the  last  drop,  poor  babe,  of  milky  store. 
Her  life  the  sword  has  ta'en ;  yet  learnt  her  heart. 
To  those  she  loves,  to  act  the  mother's  part  G.  B. 


*  A  stadff,  and  a  scrip,  and  a  twice-folded  garment  are 
the  very  light  load  of  Diogenes  the  wise.^  ^  All  these 
am  I  carrymg  to  the  ferry-man,  for  I  have  left  nothing 
above  grouna ;  and  may  you,  dog  Cerberus,  fawn  at  me 
the  dog.^ 

Staff,  scrip,  and  double  cloak  I  bring  with  me, 
The  sage  Diogenes,  life's  lightest  load  ; 
Nothing  I  've  left  on  earth,  my  late  abode  ; 

Dog  Cerberus,  wag  thy  tail,  a  dog  to  see.         M.  A.  S. 

» — ^  This  first  distich  is  in  the  Eton  Extracts,  Ep.  156. 
'— »  This  second  distich  is  in  Westminster,  1  Book,  51  Ep. 



This  is  the  bone  *  of  a  hard-working  man.  Surely 
thou  wert  either  a  sea-faring  trafficker,  or  a  fisherman 
in  a  blind  ^  wave.  Say  to  mortals,  that,  while  we  are 
urging  onwards  to  other  hopes,  on  such  a  hope  as  this 
are  we  broken  up. 

The  bones  perchance  of  toil-worn  mortal  these ; 
Merchant's  or  fisher's  on  the  dark  rough  seas. 
Oh !  tell  to  mortals,  when  their  hopes  run  fast 
To  other  hopes,  to  this  they  come  at  last.         Hat* 

The  man  of  many  deeds,  who  own'd  this  skull, 
Trafficked,  or  cast  his  nets  beneath  the  wave ; 

Now  let  it  tell  to  mortals  that,  though  full 

Of  other  hopes,  they  lead  but.  to  the  grave.     M.  A.  S. 


When  thy  mother  received  thee,  Demetrius,  after  run- 
ning away  n:om  battle,  and  losing  all  the  soldier's  trap- 
pings, she  did  herself  on  the  instant  plunge  a  blood- 
stained spear  into  thy  broad  flanTcs  and  say — "  Die ;  nor 
let  Sparta  suffer  blame ;  for  she  has  not  erred,  even  if 
my  imlk  has  brought  up  cowards." 


I  was  a  woman  of  Athens ;  for  that  was  my  city. 
But  from  Athens  a  destructive  war  of  Italians  did  afore- 
time take  me  away,  as  plunder,  and  made  me  a  denizen 
of  Rome ;  but  now  the  island-like  *  Cyzicus  invests  the 
^  bones  of  me  dead.  Farewell,  thou  land  that  brought  me 
up,  and  thou  that  subsequently  obtained  me,  and  thou 
that  at  last  received  me  in  thy  bosom. 

'  By  6(yrevv  Jacobs  understands  the  skull. 

•  Jacobs  compares  rw^Xy,  here  applied  to  a  wave,  with  "  caecus,"  simi- 
larly used  by  Virgil,  and  "  surdus,"  by  Horace. 

*  Cyzicus  was  originally  an  island,  but  being  afterwards  united  to  the 
mainland  it  became  a  peninsula,  as  we  learn  from  Schol.  on  Apollon.  Rh. 
L  936,  quoted  by  Jacobs. 



Ever  may  the  ivy  of  the  stage  leap '  as  to  its  tender 
feet  upon  thy  smooth  monument,  O  divine  Sophocles ; 
ever  may  thy  tomb  be  bedewed  around  by  bees,  ^  the 
offspring  of  an  ox,^  and  wetted  with  the  honey  of  Hy- 
mettus,  so  that  the  wax  on  the  Attic  tablet  may  flow 
perpetually/  and  thou  mayest  have  thy  locks  under 


No  longer,  Therimachus,  shalt  thou  adapt  to  the  reeds 
the  shepherd's  song  under  this  well-growing  plane-tree ; 
nor  will  the  homed  kine  receive  a  pleasant  melody  from 
thy  reeds,  while  thou  art  reclining  imder  a  shady  oak ; 
for  the  burning  thunderbolt  has  destroyed  thee ;  and 
tiiy  kine  came  late  to  the  stall,  urged  on  *  by  a  snow- 

Oh !  never  more  beside  this  lofty  plane, 

Therimachus,  thou  It  pipe  thy  pastoral  strain ; 

The  herd  no  more  will  drink  thy  soft,  sweet  song, 

Stretch'd  in  the  oak-tree's  shadow  all  along. 

Thou  wert  by  lightning  stricken.     Midst  a  fall 

Of  snow  thy  herd  benighted  gain'd  the  stall.     J.  W.  B. 

No  more,  Therimachus,  thy  pipe  will  pour 

The  pastoral  strain  beneath  the  plane-tree's  shade ; 

^  How  the  ivy  could  be  said  to  leap,  instead  of  creeping,  it  is  difficult 
to  understand.  The  Greek  at  present  is  Aid  rot  Xiwaptf  iiri  9i]fiaTi — 
2icf}V(n}C  ftaXafco^c  Kiaabg  UXoito  TrSSac —  It  was  perhaps  originally 
Aict  <rov  XafiirpoY  iiri  vfifiaTi — ^Krivirov  fia\aKoi>c  Kioobg  idoiro  kXclSov^ 
— "  Ever  may  the  ivy  see  its  tender  branches  upon  the  monument  of 
thee,  a  splendid  scenic  writer." 

' — ^  In  rot  povnaioi  evidently  lies  hid  rate  pov  7rai<rl —  For  bees  were 
said  to  come  from  the  carcass  of  an  ox,  as  we  learn  from  Virgil. 

*  If  the  wax  flowed  perpetually  on  the  tablet,  the  letters  on  it  would 
become  illegible.  The  sense  seems  to  require —  **  so  that  the  wax,  be. 
ing  firm  on  the  Attic  tablet,  may  please  the  intellect-—"  in  Greek,  'Qc  av 
rot  oTtptbe  yavvffy  vdov'ArOidi  dk\T<p  Kiyjo^c—  to  which  ajavbg  in  Cod. 
Vat.,  and  akvvaog  in  Suidas,  seem  to  lead. 

*  As  the  herd,  when  urged  on  by  a  snow-storm,  would  arrive  at  the 
stall  rather  early  than  late,  one  would  prefer  rpvx^fiivoi  to  cvipx^fiivoi. 


Thy  reed's  sweet  melody  the  kine  no  more 
Will  hear  from  thee,  beneath  the  oak-tree  laid. 
The  lightning's  flash  destro/d  thee.    Late  and  slow 
Thy  kine  came  home,  while  heavy  fell  the  snow. 

M.  A.  S. 

This  Is  not  the  hapless  tomb  of  Satyrus ;  nor  under  a 
funeral  pyre  here  was  Satyrus,  as  the  report  goes,  put 
to  rest.  But  you  have  heard  perchance  of  that  sea,  dis- 
agreeable if  any  one  is,^  which  swells  into  waves  ^  near 
the  goat-feeding  Mycal^.  In  that  water,  full  of  eddies 
and  cheerless,  do  I  still  lie,  finding  fault  with  the  mad- 
dened Boreas  (North  wind). 



Orpheus  by  his  harp  obtained  the  greatest  honour  from 
mortals ;  Nestor,  by  the  wisdom  of  his  sweetly  talking 
tongue ;  the  divine  Homer  of  much  knowledge,  by  the 
composition  of  his  verses ;  but  Telephanes,  by  his  naut- 
boys,  of  whom  this  is  the  tomb. 

His  lyre  for  Orpheus  eam'd  the  highest  fame ; 

Persuasive  wisdom  gilds  old  Nestor's  name  ; 

The  epic  art  sees  Homer  first  appear  ; 

The  flute  Telephanes  ;  whose  tomb  is  here.      M.  A.  S. 


Traveller !  regret  not  me  ;  for  thou  shalt  find 
Just  cause  of  sorrow  none  in  my  decease ; 

Who,  dying,  children's  children  left  behind, 
And  with  one  wife  lived  many  years  in  peace : 

*  With  the  expression  tl  irov  riva — iLKovin^  Jacobs  compares  the 
Homeric  vrivoQ  Tig — €i  vov  &KovtiQ,  But  licecvov,  "which  is  incompatible 
with  rtc,  is  not  there  added,  as  it  is  here ;  and  hence,  in  lieu  of  ci  wod 
Tiva,  we  must  read,  as  translated,  ei  irov  tiq — a  formula  touched  upon  by 
Matthise,  Gr.  Gr.  §  608. 

*  This  seems  to  be  the  proper  meaning  here  of  icKvZSfuvov,  which  else- 
where is  transUted  "  washed." 

Edwards's  selection.  349 

Three  virtuous  youths  espoused  my  daughters  three ; 

And  oft  their  infants  in  my  bosom  lay ; 
Nor  saw  I  one,  of  all  derived  from  me, 

Touch'd  by  disease,  or  torn  by  death  away. 
Their  duteous  hands  my  funeral  rites  bestow'd, 

And  me,  by  blameless  manners  fitted  well 
To  seek  it,  sent  to  the  serene  abode, 

Where  shades  of  pious  men  for  ever  dwell.     W.  C. 

Blame  not  my  tomb,  while  passing  by ;  my  life 

Has  never  suffered  what  demands  a  tear : 
I  've  left  my  children's  children ;  seen  my  wife 

Grow  old  with  me ;  three  sons  had  consorts  dear ; 
Whose  babes  I  've  luU'd  to  sleep  upon  my  breast ; 

None  have  I  moum'd  for  in  disease  or  death ; 

They  wept,  when  painless  I  resign'd  my  breath. 
And  a  sweet  sleep  conve/d  me  to  the  blest.    M.  A.  S. 



The  raised  ground  is  a  tomb.  Stop,  you  fellow,  your 
two  oxen,  and  draw  out  the  coulter  of  the  plough ;  for 
you  are  disturbing  ashes ;  and  upon  dust  of  this  kind 
pour  out  not  the  seed  of  wheat,  but  tears. 


From  my  portion  in  the  land  did  the  hope,  arising 
from  the  sea,  draw  me,  Eteocles,  a  trafficker  in  foreign 
parts.  And  I  trod  the  back  of  the  Tyrrhene  sea ;  but 
together  with  the  ship  I  simk  headforemost  in  its  waters, 
through  the  gale  becoming  heavy  and  violent.^  The 
wind  does  not  blow  the  same  upon  threshing-floors  and 

DLXX. .      77   — 

*  This  is  perhaps  the  best  rendering  of  dOpoov,  which  means  literally, 
"  collected  together,"  unless  it  be  said  that'A^poov  ifippi<ravTog  is  a  cor- 
ruption for  'A0pto£v  ppiaavTog — 


She,  who  played  sweetly  and  with  spirit,  she,  who 
alone  *  caused  the  sound  of  a  female  voice  to  burst  from 
her  chest,  lies  here  silent.  Such  strength  have  the  knit- 
tings of  Fate  as  to  shut  up  the  shriU-sounding  lips  of 

To  thee,  Rhodo,  does  thy  husband,  Glycerus,^  raise  up 
a  tomb  with  handsome  stones,  in  return  for  thy  good 
conduct,  and  he  distributes  gifts  to  the  poor,  'as  the  re- 
lease of  life ; '  since  thou  hast  by  dying  with  a  rapid 
death  given  him  freedom. 

Lovely  by  name,  and  more  so  in  mind  than  face, is  dead. 
Alas !  the  spring-time  of  the  Graces  has  perished.  For 
she  was  altogether  like  to  the  Paphian  goddess,  but  only 
towards  her  husband ;  towards  others  she  was  a  Pallas 
the  most  rigid.  What  stone  did  not  lament  when  Hades, 
with  extensive  sway,  snatched  her  from  the  arms  of  her 

More  for  her  gracious  spirit  than  her  face, 

This  graceful  maid  deserved  her  name  of  "  Grace," 

Yet  died  she  in  the  spring-time  of  her  charms. 
Venus  to  him,  who  owned  her  for  his  bride, 
Minerva's  self  to  all  the  world  beside ; 
What  rugged  stone 
Refused  a  groan, 
When  Hades  snatch'd  her  from  her  husband's  arms. 

J.  W.  B. 

*  By  fiovvti  Jacobs  understands—'*  pre-eminently."  Perhaps  the  au- 
thor wrote  MouiT*  oit  0t|Xvrlpiy— "  no  female  muse  " — i.  e.  a  masculine 

^  As  yKvKigbc  is  not  elsewhere  the  epithet  for  a  husband,  but  rather 
for  a  wife  or  child,  it  would  seem  to  be  here  a  proper  name ;  just  as 
TXvKipiov  is  the  name  of  a  woman. 

* — *  Jacobs  explains  pvaia  t/^x^C  hy  "  ut  animam  tuam  ex  flammis  et 
cruciatibus  solveret " — as  if  forsooth  Julian  the  prefect  of  Egypt  fancied 
the  husband  of  Rhodo  to  be  a  Roman  Catholic,  and  to  give  money  to  the 
poor  to  pray  for  the  repose  of  his  wife's  soul. 

Edwards's  selection.  351 


Thee  did  the  earth  produce;  the  sea  destroy;  and 
the  seat  of  Hades  received  thee ;  and  from  thence  thou 
didst  ascend  to  heaven.  Not  merely  as  one  shipwrecked 
didst  thou  die  in  the  deep ;  but  that  thou  mightest  in 
the  allotted  portions  of  all  immortals  obtain  an  honour, 


A  marriage-chamber  in  the  fit  season  of  life  received 
thee,  Anastasia ;  and  received  thee  too  a  tomb  in  the 
unfit  season.  For  thee  a  father  and  for  thee  a  husband 
shed  bitter  tears;  and  perchance  too  shed  a  tear  the 
ferryman  of  the  dead.  For  thou  didst  not  complete  a 
whole  year  near  thy  husband ;  but  the  tomb,  alas !  holds 
thee  only  sixteen  years  old. 

Thine,  Anastasia,  of  each  grace  the  bloom, 
Were  timely  spousal  and  mitimely  tomb. 
Tears,  bitter  tears,  thy  sire,  thy  husband  shed  ; 
In  tears  shall  melt  the  boatman  of  the  dead. 
Scarce  one  short  year  to  marriage  joys  allow'd. 
Thy  sixteenth  summer  wraps  thee  in  a  shroud. 

Fb.  Wrangham. 


Alas !  alas !  the  sweet  spring  of  unnumbered  graces 
about  thee  has  the  storm  of  the  infernal  powers,  who  feed 
on  raw  fiesh,  wasted  away.  And  thee  has  the  tomb 
snatched  away  from  the  splendour  of  the  sun,  while  thou 
wert  passing  a  sad  fifth  year  in  addition  to  the  eleventh ; 
and  with  wretched  sorrows  has  it  rendered  bHnd  thy 
husband  and  father,  to  whom,  Anastasia,  thou  didst 
shine  more  (grateful)  than  the  sun. 

DLXXVn.   WESTMINSTER,   2   BOOK,   42   EP. 
Often  have  I  sung  out  this,  and  I  will  bawl  it  from 


the  tomb — "  Drink,  before  you  deck  yourselves  in  this 

This  lesson  oft  in  life  I  sung, 

And  from  my  grave  I  still  shall  cry — 
Drink,  mortal,  drink,  while  time  is  young. 

Ere  death  has  made  thee  cold  as  I.      T.  Moobe. 

Oft  have  I  sung — now  from  the  tomb  I  cry — 
Drink,  ere  enveloped  in  this  dust  you  lie.       H.  W. 

A.  After  drinking  much,  Anacreon,  thou  art  dead* 
B.  But  I  enjoyed  my  revels:  and  thou  too,  though  not 
drinking,  wilt  come  to  Hades. 


Although  thou  rulest,  Proserpine,  under  the  earth  over 
the  dead,  that  smile  not,  receive  kindly  the  laughing 
soul  of  Democritus;  since  *  laughter  alone  caused  thy 
mother  to  bend,  when  grieving  for  thy  loss.* 

If  o'er  the  smileless  dead  beneath  the  earth 
Thou  rulest,  Proserpine,  the  soul  receive 

Of  Democritus,  the  joyous  ;  nought  but  mirth 
Could,  when  thy  mother  lost  thee,  woe  relieve. 

M.  A  S. 

DLXXXI.   WESTMINSTER,    1    BOOK,   53   EP. 


Looking  to  my  husband  at  the  last  thread  of  Fate,  I 
praised  the  infernal  (gods)  ^  and  those  who  preside  over 
unions  ;  the  former,  because  they  had  left  my  husband 
alive ;  the  latter,  because  (they  had  given  me)  ^  such  a 
one.  *  Thou  hast  found  for  thyself,  Nosto,  this  worthy 
tribute  in  return  for  thy  modest  conduct ;  thy  husband 
has  shed  tears  for  thee  deceased.'* 

* — *  The  story  alluded  to  is  told  in  the  Pseud-Homeric  hymn  to  Ceres. 

*  As  the  word  dtoic  could  hardly  be  omitted,  it  is  probable  the  author 
wrote  it  in  the  place  of  Kai — 

'  The  words  within  the  lunes  are  inserted  to  fill  out  the  sense. 

* — *  The  distich  in  the  original  is  placed  by  Planudes  as  a  separate 

Edwards's  selection.  353 

This  is  the  monument  of  Candaules.  Justice,  looking 
upon  my  misfortune,  has  said  that  the  wife  committed  no 
crime.  For  she  wished  not  to  be  seen  by  two  men ;  but 
^  to  have  her  former  husband  or  the  person,  who  knew.^ 
For  it  was  necessary  ^  that  Candaules  should  suffer  some 
ill.  For  (otherwise)  he  would  not  have  dared  to  expose 
his  own  wife  to  the  eyes  of  others. 


By  the  '  last  course  on  earth '  (I  swear),  that  neither 
my  wife  hated  me,  nor  did  I,  Theodotus,  myself  become 
willingly  a  foe  to  Eugenia.  But  some  Envy  or  Ate  led 
us  to  so  great  an  error.  But  now  that  we  have  come  to 
the  pure  judgment-seat*  of  Minos,  we  have  both  obtain- 
ed a  white  *  vote. 

DLXXXV.   WESTMINSTER,   2   BOOK,   28   EP. 

Mark,  where  the  flower  of  love  and  song  is  laid. 
Skilled  too  in  law's  ennobling  lore,  the  maid 
Eugenia's  tomb  ;  on  which,  their  ringlets  shorn, 
The  Muses,  Venus,  Themis,  spread  and  mourn.  Hay. 

A,  Why  weepest  thou,  stranger  ?    jB.  On  account  of 

' — *  The  Greek  is  ^  rhv  wpiv  ix^iv  fl  rbv  iiritrranivov — ^where  Jacobs 
■would  read  AeTv,  **  to  destroy,"  and  Opsopseus  iipurrdfievov.  But  the  anti- 
thesis in  rbv  irplv  seems  to  lead  to  kTrttraSfievov — "  one  about  to  be  so —  ** 

'  Opsopasus  suggests  xprjv  ydp  in  lieu  of  ijv  dpa.  For  Herodotus  has 
in  i.  11,  xpriv  yAp  "KaviavXy  ytvkoOai  KanioQ, 

» — »  By  TrvfutTov  dpofiov  Jacobs  understands  "  the  last  course  of  life," 
which  leads  to  the  grave,  as  a  goal.  But  the  oath  ought  to  be  rather  by 
something,  that  could  testify  to  its  truth.  Hence  the  author  probably 
wrote  irivvrbv  Opovov,  "  the  intelligient  throne —  "  of  Minos,  called  just 
afterwards  Mivwiyv — Kpri'iriSa. 

*  The  Greek  is  fcptyn-Tia,  literally,  **  the  base  of  any  thing." 

*  This  "  white  "  vote  is  best  explained  by  the  distich  in  Ovid  Met.  xv. 
41,  *'  Mos  erat  antiquus  niveis  atrisque  lapillis,  His  damnare  reos,  illis 
absolvere  culpa." 

.  ^  In  this  Epigram  Jacobs  identifies  'Ofjunftpotrvvrj  with  *Ofji6voia,  to 
whom,  he  says,  an  altar  was  placed  by  the  Eleans,  as  we  learn  firom 
Pausanias  v.  14. 


thy  death.  A,  Knowest  thou  who  I  am  ?  B.  Not  by 
(heaven) ;  *  but  I  look  always  with  pity  at  a  person's 
end.  But  who  art  thou  ?  A.  Pericleia.  B,  The  wife 
of  any  one  ?  A.  Of  the  best  of  men,  and  a  rhetorician 
from  Asia,  by  name  Memnonius.  B.  How  is  it  that  the 
dust  near  the  Bosporus  retains  thee?  A,  Inquire  of 
Fate,  who  gave  me  a  stranger's  tomb  far  from  my  coun- 
try. B,  Hast  thou  left  a  child  ?  A.  One  of  three  years 
old ;  who  in  sad  spirits  at  home  is  waiting  for  a  drop 
from  my  breast.  B.  Would  that  he  may  five  happily. 
A,  Yes,  yes,  pray  for  him,  that  when  he  grows  up  he 
may  drop  a  tear  for  me. 

Although  thou  art  hid,  Leontius,  *  as  to  thy  limbs^ 
under  a  strange  land,^  and  though  thou  hast  (ued  at  a 
distance  from  much-lamented  parents,  yet  many  tears 
have  been  shed  over  thy  tomb  from  the  eyes  of  men, 
(with  hearts)  eaten  by  sorrow,  hard  to  be  borne.  For 
thou  wert  greatly  beloved  by  all,  as  being  '  altogether 
familiar  with  youths,  and  familiar  too  with  old  persons.* 
Alas !  alas !  Fate  has  been  harsh  and  not  to  be  softened, 
nor  has  it,  thou  hapless  one,  spared  thy  youth. 

Far  from  his  native  land  Leontius  lies  ; 

Far  from  his  parents'  sight  he  closed  his  eyes  ; 

Yet  tears  for  him,  unnumber'd  tears  were  shed, 

And  many  a  breaking  heart  bewail'd  him  dead. 

For  all  in  him  beheld  a  loved  one's  end  ; 

A  son,  the  aged  ;  and  the  young,  a  friend. 

Alas  !  dear  youth,  how  stem  the  doom  must  be, 

How  cold  and  stern,  which  spared  not  even  thee.  J.  W.  B. 

*  On  ojr  fid  rhv  without  Qihv  see  Koen  on  Gregorius  de  Dialect,  p.  65. 

' — *  The  Greek  is  liri  leivi^c  o"* — yata  KaKvirm,  But  as  yata  could 
not  be  thus  repeated  after  yairigy  understood  as  the  noun  for  |(tvf|c»  the 
author  probably  wrote,  as  translated—iwt  IctVi^c  crd— yvta  KaXturrti — 
where  KoXvirrei  is  the  •2nd  pers.  passive,  not  the  3rd  pers.  active. 

'— '  Such  is  the  translation  of  what  the  auUior  probably  wrote— 
ir&VTtaq  Kvvb^  Iwv  Kovpoig^  twhQ  liav  ytpaolc — not  icavriav  iivpbc  ^«v 
KoOpoff-— ?ropoc :  where  iriivrwv  has  nouing  to  govern  it;  nor  is  there 
the  antithesis,  which  J.  W.  B.  has  properly  introduced  ih  his  version— 
"  A  son,  the  aged;  and  the  young,  a  friend." 


Thy  bed  upon  a  tomb,  instead  of  a  bridal  chamber, 
have  thy  parents,  O  virgin  daughter,  strewed  with  sor- 
rowing haDds ;  and  thou  hast  escaped  the  errors  of  life 
and  the  labours  of  Eleutho ;  *  whUe  they  have  felt  the 
bitter  cloud  of  griefs.  For  Fate  hides  thee,  Macedonia, 
of  twelve  years  old,  in  beauty  youngly  decked,  but  with 
the  manners  of  staid  old  age. 

Sweet  maid,  thy  parents  fondly  thought 

To  strew  thy  bride  bed,  not  thy  bier  ; 
But  thou  hast  left  a  being,  fraught 

With  wiles,  and  toils,  and  anxious  fear. 
For  us  remains  a  journey  drear ; 

For  thee  a  blest  eternal  prime, 
Uniting  in  thy  short  career   . 

Youth's  blossom  with  the  fruit  of  time.     Bl. 


Hector  and  the  shield-bearing  Ajax  gave  to  each  other 
a  bitter  present,  as  the  remembrance  of  friendship  after 
a  fight.  For  Hector,  on  receiving  a  belt,  gave  in  return 
a  sword;  and  they  tried  the  value  of  the  gifts  in  their 
death.  The  sword  destroyed  Ajax,  when  he  was  mad ; 
and  on  the  other  hand,  the  belt  dragged  along  the  son  of 
Priam,  ^  drawn  along  chariot-like.^  Thus  from  foes  were 
sent  gifts,  producing  each  other's  destruction,  and  hav- 
ing under  the  pretext  of  a  favour  a  deadly  fate. 


O  LacedsBmon,  thou,  who  wast  formerly  unsubdued 
and  untrodden  upon,  beholdest  the  smoke  of  Olenus,'  as 

*  This  is  rather  an  unusual  word  in  the  sense  of  Eilithuia,  the  goddess 
who  presided  over  child-birth. 

' — '  So  Jacobs  understands  Si^pia  <rvp6fuvov — But  how  di^pta  is  to 
be  goTemed  he  has  forgotten  to  state ;  although  he  does  say  that  Siippia 
is  a  word  scarcely  to  be  found  elsewhere.  Perhaps  the  author  wrote 
^40p'  3v  iiTvpt  vkicvv — **  whom  the  chariot  drew  when  dead." 

'  To  Olenus,  a  city  of  Arcadia,  was  assigned  Lacedasmon,  after  it  had 
been  conquered  by  the  members  of  the  Achaean  league,  as  recorded  by  Po- 
lybius,  yii.  8,  quoted  by  Jacobs. 

2  ▲  2 


thou  art  without  the  shade  (of  trees) ;  ^  and  the  birds  that 
made  their  dwellings  through  the  land,  utter  a  cry  of 
sorrow ;  and  wolves  hear  not  sheep. 

O  Lacedaemon,  unsubdued  and  unapproach'd  of  old, 
Now  smoking  on  Eurotas'  bank  th'  Achaean  fires  behold. 
All  shelterless  the  birds  in  sorrow  build  upon  the  ground, 
And  list'ning  wolves  no  sound  detect  of  bleating  fiocks  around. 

H.  W. 

DXCII.    ETON  EXTRACTS,    113   EP, 
DXCm.   WESTMINSTER,   2   BOOK,    60  EP. 

I  am  here,  the  cloak-bearing  Sibyl  of  Phoebus,  but 
rotting  under  this  stone  monument.  (I  was)  formerly  a 
virgin  with  a  voice  ;  but  (am)  now  voiceless,  having  ob- 
tained this  gagging  from  a  strong  Fate.  But  I  am  lying 
close  to  the  Nymphs  and  under  this  Hermes,^  possessing 
a  sharQ  in  the  shrine  of  Hecatus.^ 


The  red-haired  Bistonides  *  lamented  ten  thousand- 
fold the  dead  Orpheus,  the  son  of  Calliop^  and  QEagrus ; 
and  they  made  bloody  their  punctured  arms,  and  with 
dark  ashes  sprinkled  all  round  their  Thracian  ringlets ; 
and  the  Pierian  Musqs  themselves  burst  into  tears  toge- 
ther with  Lyceus,*  while  venting  his  grief  through  the 
beautiful  harp,  and  mourning  for  the  minstrel;  and 
there  naoaned  in  addition  the  rocks  and  oaks,  whom  he 
had  formerly  soothed  with  his  beloved  lyre. 

*  So  Jacobs  explains  aoKioq ;  for  the  trees  were  cut  down ;  and  hence 
the  birds  were  unable  to  build,  as  usual,  their  nests  in  the  country ;  from 
which  as  the  sheep  were  carried  off,  the  wolves  were  deprived  of  their 
former  prey. 

^  According  to  Pausanias,  who  has,  in  x.  12,  preserved  this  Epigram, 
there  was  a  Hermes  placed  near  the  tomb  of  the  Sibyl  HerophU^,  and 
close  to  it  a  fountain,  ornamented  with  statues  of  the  Nymphs. 

*  This  was  one  of  the  names  of  Apollo. 

*  The  women  of  Thrace  were  called  by  this  name. 

»  On  this  title  of  Apollo,  see  Blomfield  on  S.  Theb.  138. 

Edwards's  selection.  357 


Thee,  who  hadst  lately  brought  forth  the  spring  of  ho- 
ney-made hymns,  and  who  wert  speaking  with  the  mouth 
of  a  swan,  *  has  Fate,  who  is  the  mistress  of  the  distaff,  on 
which  thread  is  spun,  driven  to  Acheron,  through  the 
broad  wave  of  the  dead.  But  the  beautifiQ  labour,  Erin- 
na,  of  thy  epic  verses  proclaims  that  thou  art  not  dead,  but 
hast  thy  dances  mixed  up  with  the  Pierian  (Muses). 

Thou,  who  hast  lately  birth  to  music  given, 

Of  bee-engender'd  hymns,  and  swan- voiced  lays, 

Art  now  o'er  Acheron's  dark  waters  driven 
By  Fate,  the  spindle  of  man's  life  that  sways. 

Yet  still,  Erinna,  will  the  Muse  proclaim 

Thy  labours  deathless  in  the  choirs  of  Fame.     Hay. 

Thee,  who  of  hymns,  from  honey  made,  the  spring 

Did  to  the  light  from  throes  of  Fancy  bring, 

And  with  the  mouth  of  swan  thy  death  bewail'd, 

Ere  o'er  the  wave  of  Acheron  thou  sail'd — 

Did  Fate,  who  distaff  rules  and  thread  of  life, 

Destroy,  2  and  stop  thy  distaff  with  her  knife.^ 

Yet  dead,  Erinna,  thou  art  not.     Thy  song 

Tells  thou  hast  join'd  the  Muses'  choral  throng.     G.  B. 


O  stranger,  on  passing  over  this  tomb  of  Anacreon, 
make,  while  passing  by,^  a  libation.  For  I  am  a  wine- 

DXCVin.   WESTMINSTER,   3   BOOK,    53   EP. 
DXCIX.  1      —        61    — 

*  On  the  swan  singing  before  its  death,  notice  has  been  taken  already. 

' — '  These  words,  wanting  in  the  original,  have  been  introduced  to 
show  that  the  author,  in  alluding  to  the  distaff  of  the  Fates,  had  in  mind 
the  poem  of  Erinna,  so  called,  as  remarked  in  p.  87. 

'  To  avoid  the  repetition  in  dfiii^tov  and  irapituv,  perhaps  the  author 
wrote  not  j^tthoSv  fioi  iraQnav  tifii  yap  oivottottiq — (where  etfit  could 
hardly  be  said  of  a  person  in  the  grave) — ^but  ^iriiffSv  fidi  fSorpvutv  va^ia 
irplv  oivoTSry — and  the  Epigram  might  be  thus  expressed  in  verse  : 
Anacreon's  tomb  while  passing,  stranger,  stop  ; 
And  on  wine-tippler  pour  from  grapes  a  drop. 



Much  time  wears  away  even  a  rock,  nor  does  it  spare 
iron,  but  with,  one  scythe  it  destroys  all  things ;  as  this 
tomb  of  Laertes,  which  is  a  little  distance  from  the  shore, 
melts  away  with  cold  showers.  But  the  name  of  the  he- 
ro is  ever  young ;  for  time  has  not  the  power,  even  if  it 
wishes,  to  blunt  the  power  of  song. 

Time,  who  not  iron  spares,  and  feeds  on  stone, 
With  his  one  scythe  cuts  every  substance  known ; 
And  thus  Laertes'  tomb,  which  near  the  shore 
Is  placed,  the  cold  and  dripping  rains  devour. 
But  ever  young  the  hiero's  name  remains  ; 
Time  has  no  power  to  blunt  the  poet's  strains. 

M.  A.  S. 

DCI.     WESTMINSTER,  2  BOOK,  56  EP.^ 
DCn.  —      —     54  — 


These  in  behalf  of  their  country  placed  their  arms  for 
contest,  and  scattered  the  insolence  of  their  antagonists : 
and  after  fighting  ^with  Valour  and  without  fear,^  they 
did  not  save  their  lives,  but  made  a  common  death  the 
prize  (of  their  contest)  in  behalf  of  the  Greeks,  in  order 
that  they  might  not  place  the  yoke  of  slavery  on  their 
necks,  and  carry  about  them  a  hated  insult.  Their  fa- 
ther-land holds  the  bodies  of  those,  who  laboured  for  the 

'  As  the  third  distich  of  this  Epigram  is  omitted  in  the  Westm.  Collec- 
tion, it  is  given  here  both  in  prose  and  yerse. 

But  if  you  see  only  a  little  dust  upon  me,  it  is  no  disgrace  to  me ;  we 
have  been  raised  up  by  the  hands  of  Greeks. 

Mock  not,  if  scant  the  dust  that  o'er  me  lies ; 

The  foeman's  hand  performed  our  obsequies.    G.  S. 

« — *  The  Greek  is  at  present  &p€Tijc  Kal  ieifiarog,  without  the  semblance 
t)f  syntax.  It  was  perhaps  formerly  iptrais  Kal  Adiifiaroi —  On  the  various 
other  attempts  made  to  correct  these  hapless  words,  the  reader  is  refer- 
red to  SchsBfer's  notes  on  Demosthenes,  T.  v.  p.  771 — 773. 


best ;  *  since  a  decision  from  Jupiter  has  come '  to  mor- 
tals— ^^  It  is  for  the  gods  not  to  err,  and  to  arrange  every- 
thing correctly ;  *  to  man  Fate  has  given  to  escape  from 

These  were  the  brave,  miknowing  how  to  yield  ; 

Who,  terrible  in  valour,  kept  the  field 

Against  the  foe  ;  and,  higher  than  life's  breath 

Prizing  their  honour,  met  the  doom  of  death, 

Our  common  doom  ;  that  Greece  might  unyoked  stand, 

Nor  shuddering  crouch  beneath  a  tyrant's  hand. 

Such  was  the  will  of  Jove ;  and  now  they  rest, 

Peaceful  enfolded  in  their  country's  breast 

The  immortal  gods  alone  are  ever  great ; 

And  erring  mortals  must  submit  to  Fate.  T.  Campbell. 

These  for  their  country  rush'd  in  danger's  hour 
To  arms,  and  scatter'd  all  of  foes  the  power  ; 
Fought  gloriously  and  fearless ;  scom'd  to  save 
Their  lives,  and  chose  for  prize  a  common  grave  ; 
That  slavery's  yoke  might  ne'er  the  necks  bestride 
Of  Greeks,  nor  freemen  crouch  to  victor's  pride. 
They,  who  for  father-land  best  labour'd,  rest, 
So  Jove  decreed,  beneath  their  country's  breast. 
The  gods  in  nothing  err  ;  succeed  in  all ; 
Fate  grants  no  man  in  life  to  fiee  a  fall.      G.  B. 


Hellas,  formerly  the  high-boasting,  and  of  strength 
imconquered,  became  the  slave  of  the  godlike  beauty  of 
this  Lais,  whom  Love  begat,  and  Corinth  brought  up ; 
and  she  lies  in  the  celebrated  plains  of  Thessaly. 

*  In  lieu  of  irXcTirra,  "  the  most,"  the  sense  evidently  requires  Xifara, 
**  the  best,"  as  translated. 

*  In  i^St  lies  hid  ijXOi —  The  phrase  ijXOi  Kpiaig  is  found  in  Apocalyps. 
xviii.  10. 

» — *  The  Greek  is  fidipav  ^  o^ti  ^vytiv  iiropov,  where  Graefe  "would 
read  ntp6ifiav,  with  the  approbation  of  Welcker  on  Theognis,  v.  443. 
But  ndipav — lupSwuv  would  be  scarcely  correct  Greek.  The  text,  cor- 
responding to  the  translation,  would  be,  uoXp*  dvSp'^ov  ri^^vyttv  Ixopcv. 
Compare  Bacchylid.  Fr.  0edc  fupiS*  &vopi  koX&v  licoptv^^ 


DCV.   WESTMINSTER,  2   BOOK,   45   EP. 


The  tomb,  which  thou  lookest  upon,  did  Maximus, 
when  living,  place  himself  for  himself,  that  he  might 
dwell  in  it,  after  ceasing  to  life;  and  for  his  wife  Cal6- 
podi^  likewise  did  he  put  this  monument,  that  he  might 
have  an  object  of  love  even  amongst  the  dead. 


After  eating  little,  and  drinking  little,  and  being  much 
diseased,  I  died  at  last,  though  late.  So  perish  all  ye 
with  me. 

My  lot  was  meagre  fare,  disease,  and  shame ; 

At  length  I  died.     You  all  must  do  the  ssune.    Bl. 

DCVni.    WESTMINSTER,  1  BOOK,  80  EP. 

DCIX.   ETON  EXTRACTS,    126   EP. 
DCX.     WESTMINSTER,  2  BOOK,  44  EP.^ 

Sabinus,  let  this  humble  tablet  show 

The  lofty  friendship  which  I  bore  to  thee. 

Whom  my  soul  yearns  for.     If  the  powers  below 
Permit,  shun  Lethe's  stream  and  think,,  of  me.     Hat. 


Shouldest  thou,  stranger,  ever  arrive  at  Phthia,  fruit- 
ful in  vines,  and  the  ancient  city  of  Thaumacia,  say  that 
while  going  perchance  through  the  desert  thickets  of 
Malea  thou  didst  see  this  tomb  over  Derxias,  the  son  of 
Lampon  ;^  whom,  when  by  himself,  did  robbers  murder 
by  a  trick,  and  not  openly,  as  he  was  hastening  to  the 
divine  Sparta. 

'  Jacobs  refers  to  Horn.  IX.  X.  389,  and  Bosch  to  Antholog.  Lat.  T.  ii. 
•  p.  139,  **  Tu  cave  Letheeo  continguas  ora  liquore;  Et  cito  yenturi  sis 
memor,  oro,  viri." 

•  LamiK)n  himself,  saj's  Jacobs,  seems  to  have  placed  the  tomb  over 
his  son.    But  this  can  hardly  be  collected  from  the  words  of  the  Epigram. 



Ye  Naiads  *and  cold  stalls  for  kine/  say  to  the  bees, 
who  are  going  on  their  vernal  journey,  that  the  old  Leu- 
cippus  perished  while  laying  snares  on  a  winter's  night 
for  feet-lifting  hares  ;  for  he  no  longer  loved  to  attend 
upon  hives ;  and  the  lawns,  wheire  herds  feed,  regret 
their  neighbour  of  Ascr^.^ 

DCXra.      ETON  EXTRACTS,  118  EP. 

Take  to  thy  bosom,  gentle  Earth,  a  swain 

With  much  hard  labour  in  thy  service  worn. 
He  set  the  vines,  that  clothe  yon  ample  plain, 

And  he  the  olives,  that  the  vale  adorn. 
He  fiU'd  with  grain  the  glebe ;  the  rills  he  led 

Through  this  green  herbage,  and  those  fruitful  bowers. 
Thou,  therefore,  Earth,  lie  lightly  on  his  head, 

His  hoary  head,  and  deck  his  grave  with  flowers. 


Take  old  Amytor  to  thy  breast,  dear  soil, 

In  kind  remembrance  of  his  former  toil : 

Who  first  enrich'd  and  ornamented  thee, 

With  many  a  lowly  shrub  and  branching  tree  ; 

And  lured  the  stream  to  fall  in  artful  showers 

Upon  thy  thirsty  herbs  and  fainting  flowers. 

First  in  the  spring  he  knew  the  rose  to  rear, 

First  in  the  autumn  cuU'd  the  ripen'd  pear  ; 

His  vines  were  envied  all  the  village  round, 

And  fav'ring  heaven  shed  plenty  on  his  ground. 

Tlierefore,  kind  Earth,  reward  him  in  thy  breast 

With  a  green  covering  and  an  easy  rest.  H.  and  B. 

i_»i  By  yl/vxpd  poavXia,  Reiske  understands  "  neglected  stalls  for 
kine —  **  But  why  such  places  should  be  addressed  on  the  death  of  an 
owner  of  bees  it  is  difficult  to  conceive.  Hence  Jacobs  explains  these 
words  by  "  cool  places  frequented  by  kine,'*  during  the  heat  of  summer. 
But  bees  woidd  be  found  rather  in  warm  spots  tlin  in  cool.  There  is 
probably  some  error  here. 

^  The  Greek  is  a«pi}c,  which  Brunck  takes  as  the  name  of  one  of  the 
ten  places  mentioned  by  Steph.  Byz.  Perhaps  the  poet  wrote  'Affjcpijc, 
the  place  where  Hesiod  was  brought  up. 


Dear  Earth,  take  old  Amyntas  to  thy  breast, 
And  for  his  toils  not  thankless  give  him  rest. 
On  thee  'twas  his  the  olive-stem  to  rear  ; 
His  with  the  mantling  vine  to  grace  the  year ; 
Through  him  thy  furrows  teem'd  with  plenty  ;  he 
Fiird  with  rich  streams  each  herb  and  fruit  for  thee. 
For  this  lie  lightly  on  his  hoary  head, 
And  with  thy  choicest  spring-flowers  deck  his  bed. 

Fr.  Wranghaic. 
Dear  Earth,  take  old  Amyntichus  to  thy  breast. 

In  kind  remembrance  of  his  former  toil ; 
Who  on  thee  caused  the  olive  trunk  to  rest. 

And  with  vines  graced  thy  steep  hills'  barren  soil ; 
Who  fill'd  with  com  and  useful  plants  thy  land. 

And  brought  canals  to  irrigate  thy  plain. 
Rest  on  him  light ;  and  let  thy  fostering  hand 

Spring-flowers  raise  o'er  him,  wash'd  with  dewy  rain. 

X.  Y.  Z. 
The  old  Amyntichus  on  thy  bosom  place, 

Kind  Earth,  rememb'ring  all  his  toils  for  thee ;    . 
Who  did  thy  plains  with  the  rich  olive  grace. 

And  teach  the  vines  thy  slopes  to  beautify ; 
Who  to  thy  corn-fields,  gardens,  orchards  blest, 

Lured  the  cool,  purling  rills  their  dews  to  bring  ; 
For  which,  kind  Earth,  oh !  take  him  to  thy  breast^ 

And  flower-adorn  him  with  the  gems  of  spring. 



I  too  myself,  *  the  thrice  hapless  Aganax,  have  coacli- 
ed '  along  this  miserable  life,  which  is  no  life.  I  did  not, 
however,  drive  for  a  long  time ;  but  treading  down  with 
my  heel  a  maddening  state  of  existence,  1  arrived  at 


Spring  with  many  trees  is  an  ornament  to  the  earth ; 
stars,  to  the  sky;  this  land,  to  Greece ;  and  these  persons, 
to  the  city. 

'— *  As  it  is  difficult  to  perceive  the  force  of  leal  aiirbc  here,  perhaps 
the  poet  wrote  'Wfid^tw'  oh  KKavrbg — "  not  wept :  "  while  the  slang  word 
"coached"  answers  literally  to  ^ii&^ivva. 

Edwards's  selection.  363 

DCXVI.   EtON  EXTBACtS,  104  EP. 

What  stone  did  not  weep,  when  thou,  Casander,  died  ? 
What  stone  is  there,  that  will  forget  thy  brilliancy  (of 
beauty)?  But  an  unpitjdng  and  envious  deity  has 
destroyed  thee  at  the  short  period  of  twenty-six  years 
old,  and  has  made  thy  widow  and  thy  aged  parents  to 
be  in  trouble,  worn  down  by  hated  sorrow.  < 


Oh  Hades!  not  to  be  moved  by  prayers  or  to  be 
turned  aside,  why  hast  thou  thus  deprived  of  life  the  in- 
fant CallaBschrus  ?  The  child  will  however  be  a  play- 
thing in  the  house  of  Proserpine ;  but  he  has  left  sad 
sufferings  at  home. 

Relentless  Hades  I  why  of  life  bereave 
The  child  Calljeschrus  ?    If  a  toy  he  be, 
In  her  dark  home,  to  thy  Persephone, 

Still  with  what  son'ows  must  his  parents  grieve  I     Hat. 

Oh !  Death,  untouched  by  ruth,  unmoved  by  prayer  I 
Ah  !  could'st  thou  not  our  young  Calkeschrus  spare  ? 
The  joy  of  all  that  pretty  babe  will  be 
In  realms  below ;  but  sad  at  heart  are  we.  G.  S. 


O  Patrophila,  thou,  in  the  prime  period  for  love  and 
the  pleasant  doings  of  Venus,  hast  closed  thy  sweet 
(looHng)  eyes ;  and  thy  prattling  endearments  are  ex- 
tinguished, and  thy  playing  accompanied  with  singing, 
and  'the  drinking  of  cups  first  wetted  by  thee.'  O 
Hades,  hard  to  be  moved,  why  hast  thou  snatched  away 
my  beloved  mistress?  Or  has  Venus  maddened  thy 
mind  too  ? 

1 — *  This  alludes  to  the  custom  of  females  drinking  first  and  then 
passing  on  the  cup  to  their  lorers. 



Why  Tainlj  moamng  do  ye  remain  near  my  tomb  ? 
Amongst  the  dead  I  have  nothing  worthy  of  lamenta- 
tions. Cease  yonr  moaning,  and  leave  off,^  husband, 
and  ye,  my  children,  £irewdl,  and  Reserve  the  remem- 
brance of  Amazonia. 

In  nnavailiiig  sorrow  why  linger  by  my  grave  ? 
Nmnber^d  among  departed  soi^  no  cause  <^  grief  I  have. 
Then  dry  those  tears,  and  weep  no  more,  hnsband  and 

children  dear. 
Farewell,  and  oh !  remember  Amazcmia  many  a  year.  H.  W. 

Why  vainly  mourning  stay  ye  at  my  tomb  ? 
Amongst  ^  dead  there  is  no  cause  for  gloom. 
Husband  and  children  mine,  fareweO.      Have  done 
With  tears.    Remember  Amazonia  gone.  G.  B. 


Staying  for  a  litde  time  your  feet,  behold  here  the  tomb 
of  a  child,  that  has  flown  suddenly  fix>m  his  mother's 
bosom.  He  is  gone,  and  amongst  the  dead  has  left  to 
his  father  unceasing  sorrow,  after  filling  twice  five  revo- 
lutions (of  the  moon).  Such  was  he  after  birth,  as, 
*they  say,  was*  lacchus,  and  the  bold  Alcides,  and  the 
lovely  Endymion. 


Here  I  stand  a  pillar  of  stone  for  thee,  Pericles,  son 
of  Archias,  in  remembrance  of  (thy)  hunting.  All 
around  thy  monument  are  carved  horses,  light  spears, 
dogs,  stakes,  and  nets  upon  the  stakes.  Alas !  all  are  of 
stone ;  and  wild  beasts  run  round.  But  thyself  twenty 
years  old  hast  the  unwakened  sleep. 

To  thee,  O  son  of  Archias, 
In  token  that  the  chace, 

*  To  avoid  the  repetition  in  \riye  and  wavt,  one  would  prefer  iroXKd 
united  to  xaipin, 
* — '  Jacobs  acutely  reads  clog  vort,  ^atrlvf  for  oloc  wot*  i^vtrtv 

Edwards's  selection.  365 

Periclees,  thy  pastime  was, 

This  tomb  of  stone  we  place. 
And  all  aromid  thj  monmnent 

We've  carved  thy  hunting-gear, 
The  dogs,  the  steeds,  each  implement, 

The  pole,  the  net,  the  spear. 
All,  all  of  stone,  alas !  unscared 

The  deer  run  tripping  by ; 
Whilst  thou  for  twenty  brief  years  spared, 

Sleep'st  here  eternally.  H.  W. 


Ariston  had  a  crow-hitting'  instrument,  fitted  for 
hungry  poverty,  with  which  he  shot,  as  with  a  sling,  at 
geese^  on  the  wing;  when,  going  along  a  crafty  road,  he 
was  able^  to  cheat  them,  while  feeding  with  oblique 
eyes.*  But  now  he  is  in  Hades.  But  his  weapon  is 
devoid  of  sound  and  a  hand ;  and  the  prey  flies  over  his 


Me,  by  name  Myrtas,  who  used,  near  the  holy  wine- 
press of  Bacchus,  to  draw  without  stint  a  flask  of  iin- 
mixed  (wine),  a  little  dust  does  not  conceal.  But  over 
me  is  a  (delightful  tomb,  flagon-like,  as  the  symbol  of 

DCXXVI.     WESTMINSTER,   4   BOOK,      9   EP. 
DCXXVn.  3      —        50  — 

Harass'd  by  age  and  want,  without  a  friend 
One  helping  hand,  my  need's  support,  to  lend, 

*  By  KopiavofioXov,  literally  **  crow-hitting,"  Jacobs  understands  "  a 
sling  "  that  hits  any  birds. 

'  As  the  word  xevac  is  here  strangely  used  for  xrjvac,  Bninck  sug- 
gested lu'xXac.  But  the  sling  would  rather  be  used  against  the  larger 
birds,  as  shown  by  Pseudo-Babrias  Fab.  26  and  33. 

*  Jacobs  says  oIoq  is  put  for  oUg  rt — 

*  In  the  words  Xo^olg  bfifiam^  equally  unintelligible  whether  applied 
to  the  man  or  the  birds,  there  probably  lies  hid  an  error,  not  easy  to  be 


Hither  I  crept  with  tottering  step  and  slow, 
And  in  the  grave  at  length  found  peace  from  woe ; 
Buried  ere  dead ;  for  me's  reversed  the  doom 
Assign'd  to  men,  whose  death  precedes  the  tomb. 

Fr.  Wrangham. 


A  lad  still  in  the  first  period  of  youth,  still  wanting 
the  down  of  a  beard,  has  envious  Fate  deprived  of  life ; 
and  thou,  a  deity  with  an  evil  eye,  hast  cut  off  un- 
hoHly  hopes  how  great  from  him,  who  has  left  many 
works  of  a  wise  hand.  But  do  thou.  Earth,  be  kind, 
and  lightly  lie  upon  Aquilinus ;  and  mayest  thou  pro- 
duce sweet-scented  flowers  by  his  side,  such  as  tfiou 
bearest  amongst  the  Arabians,  and  such  as  are  amongst 
the  Indians ;  so  that  the  exhalation,  cpming  from  his 
sweet-scented  skin,  may  tell  that  a  boy,  loved  by  the 
gods,  lies  here,  worthy  of  libations  and  frankincense, 
not  of  lamentations.  Fate  has  carried  off  quickly  a  lad 
of  twenty  years  old ;  and  he  is  now  in  the  region  of  the 
pious  through  his  temperate  conduct. 


May  many  flowers  grow  on  this  newly-bmlt  tomb ; 
not  the  dried-up  bramble  nor  the  noxious  segipyrus;* 
but  violets,  and  marjoram,  and  the  narcissus  growing  in 
water ;  and  around  thee,  Vibius,  may  all  roses  grow. 

May  many  a  flower,  O  Vibius,  bedeck  thy  burial-place, 
Nor  bramble  rude,  nor  hurtful  weed,  the  chosen  spot  deface  ^ 
But  may  the  soft  narcissus  bloom  upon  the  new-raised  mound. 
With  marjoram,  and  violets,  and  roses  all  around.     H.  W. 


.  Thou  hast  not,  O  ruler  Pluto,  snatched  holily  under 
the  ground  a  girl  of  five  years  old,  admired  by  all.  For 
thou  hast  cut,  as  it  were,  from  the  root  a  sweet-scented 
rose  in  the  season  of  a  commencing  spring,  before  it  had 

^  This  is  said  to  be  a  kind  of  thyme. 

Edwards's  selection.  367 

completed  its  proper  time.  But  come,  Alexandra  and 
Philtatus,  do  not  any  longer  with  tears  pour  forth  la- 
mentations for  the  regretted  girl.  For  she  had, /yes,  she 
had,  a  charm  in  her  countenance  with  a  beautiful  colour, 
so  as  to  remain  in  the  immortal  dwellings  of  the  sky. 
Trust  then  to  the  stories  of  old.  For  the  Naiads,  not 
Peath,  have  snatched  away  a  good  girl,  as  a  plaything. 

Too  soon,  grim  monarch,  with  unholy  hand 
You  snatch'd  this  infant  to  your  dreary  land  ; 
Lika  some  fair  rose-bud,  pluck'd  from  mortal  sight, 
Ere  all  its  beauties  open'd  into  light. 
Cease,  wretched  parents,  cease  your  wailing  wild, 
Nor  mourn  for  ever  your  departed  child. 
Her  youthful  graces,  and  her  form  so  fair, 
Deserved  a  dwelling  in  the  realms  of  air. 
As  Hylas  once — believe  the  soothing  lay — 
The  Nymphs — not  Death — ^have  borne  your  child  away. 

R.  Bl.  Jr. 

This  is  the  tomb  of  Popilia.  My  husband  Oceanus, 
skilled  in  all  wisdom,  made  it.  Therefore  light  is  the 
dust  over  me,  and  in  Acheron  I  will  celebrate,  husband, 
thy  piety.  And  do  thou  amongst  the  living  remember 
me ;  and  often  on  the  tomb  shed  from  thy  eyelids  tears 
for  me  deceased ;  and  say,  my  husband,  that  Popilia  is 
sleeping ;  for  it  is  not  just  for  the  good  to  die,  but  merely 
to  have  a  pleasant  sleep. 


I,  who  was  more  musical  than  the  Sirens — I,  who  was 
more  golden  than  Venus  herself,  while  seated  near 
Bacchus  and  at  banquets — I,  who  was  the  twittering 
and  glossy  swallow,^  Ke  here,  by  name  Homonsea,  after 
bequeathing  tears  to  Atimetus,  to  whom  I  was  dear  from 
the  time  I  was  a  little  child.  But  friendship  of  such 
standing  has  a  deity,  not  previously  seen,  dispersed. 

1  The  ancients,  says  Jacobs,  often  connected  with  the  swallow  the 
idea  of  something  pleasant  to  hear. 

368  OBESK  A17TH0L0<}T. 


Prot6,  thou  art  not  dead,  but  hast  removed  to  a  better 
place,  and  dwellest  in  the  islands  of  the  blest  amongst 
abundant  banquets;  where  thou  art  delighted,  wlule 
skipping  alonff  the  Elysian  plains  amongst  soft  flowers, 
far  from  all  ills.  *  The  winter  pains  not  thee,  nor  does 
heat;'  nor  disease  trouble  thee;  nor  himger  nor  thirst 
possess  thee ;  nor  is  the  life  of  man  any  longer  regretted 
by  thee;  for  thou  livest  without  blame  in  the  pure 
splendour  of  Olympus  that  is  near. 

Thou  art  not  dead,  my  Prote ;  though  no  more 

A  sojourner  on  earth's  tempestuous  shore ; 

Fled  to  the  peaceful  islands  of  the  blest, 

Where  youth  and  love,  for  ever  beaming,  rest ; 

Or  joyful  wand'ring  o'er  Elysian  ground, 

Among  sweet  flowers,  where  not  a  thorn  is  found. 

No  winter  freezes  there ;  no  summer  fires ; 

No  sickness  weakens ;  and  no  labour  tires. 

No  longer  poverty  or  thirst  oppress. 

Nor  envy  of  man's  boasted  happiness ;  ' 

But  spring  for  ever  glows  serenely  bright, 

And  bliss  immortal  hails  the  heavenly  light      J.  H.  M. 

Prote,  thou  art  not  dead ;  but  thou  hast  pass'd 
To  better  lands,  where  pleasures  ever  last. 
To  bound  in  joy  amidst  the  fairest  flowers 
Of  the  blest  isles,  Elysium's  blooming  bowers : 
Thee  nor  the  summer's  heat,  nor  winter's  chill, 
Shall  e'er  annoy,  apart  from  every  ill ; 
Nor  sickness,  hunger,  thirst  again  distress. 
Oh  I  is  there  aught  on  earth  to  equal  this  ? 

* — *  So  Shakspeare  in  Cymbeline,  Act  iv.  sc.  2, 

Fear  no  more  the  heat  of  the  sun ; 
Nor  the  furious  winter's  rages ; 
Thou  thy  worldly  task  hast  done. 
So  too  Mason  in  Caractacus — 

Fear  not  now  the  fever's  fire ; 

Fear  not  now  the  death-bed  groan ; 
Pangs,  that  torture ;  pains,  that  tire ; 
Bed-rid  age,  with  feeble  moan.' 

Edwards's  selbctiok. 


Contented  thou — remote  from  human  ■woes—' 

In  the  pure  light,  which  from  Olympus  flows.      Hat. 

Frote,  thou  art  not  dead,  but  thou  art  gone 

To  a  far  better  place  and  joys  unknown. 

Thou  in  the  isUuids  of  the  blest  dost  dwell, 

Where  sounds  are  not,  except  of  feasts  to  tell. 

Far  from  all  ills,  in  sweet  Elysian  bowers 

With  gladden'd  feet  thou  stray'st  midst  blooming  flowers ; 

No  winter's  cold,  no  summer's  rays  annoy ; 

Thirst,  hunger,  sickness  break  not  on  thy  joy. 

There  no  regrets  for  life  thy  pleasure  b%ht ; 

But  pure  thy  hours  in  heaven's  own  unstain'd  light 

M.  A.  S. 

Thou  hast  come  more  sweet  than  life,  who  hast  re- 
leased me  from  diseases,  and  troubles,  and  a  painftil  gout. 


Do  not  thou,  who  passest  by  the  road,  if  perchance 
thou  perceivest  this  monument,  laugh,  I  pray,  although 
it  is  the  to^b  of  a  dog.  I  have  been  wept  for.  And  the 
dust  have  the  hands  of  a  king  put  together,^  who  has 
caused  this  accoiint  to  be  sculptured  on  the  pillar. 


DCXXXVII. —      —        4  — 


The  stone  is  an  Amethyst ;  ^  but  I,  the  tippler  Bacchus, 
say — ^"  Let  it  either  persuade  me  to  be  sober ;  or  let  it 
learn  to  get  drunk." 


I  am  Drunkenness,  the  carving  oi  a  clever  hand ;  but 

*  By  avoicroc  Jacobs  understands  merely  its  (xwner. 
'  The  Amethyst,  as  its  name  imports,  "  not  to  get  drunk,**  was  sup- 
posed to  be  a  charm  against  inebriety. 

2  B 


I  am  carved  upon  an  Amethyst.  Now  the  stone  is  alien 
to  the  art.  But  I  am  the  holy  possession  of  Cleopatra. 
For  on  the  hand  of  a  queen  it  behoves  even  a  goddess, 
when  drunk,  to  become  sober. 

The  face,  that  sculptured  here  you  see, 

Is  of  the  nymph  Ebriety. 

The  cunning  artist  his  design 

Imbedded  in  no  kindred  shrine, 

A  pure  and  lucid  amethyst. 

Yet  think  not  so  his  aim  he  missed. 

Pure  to  the  pure  are  things  divine. 
In  Cleopatra's  royal  hands. 

Unconscious  of  the  power  of  wine, 

Sober'd  the  tipsy  goddess  stands.      J.  H.  M. 


Agis  neither  gave  a  clyster  to  Aristagoras  nor  did  he 
even  touch  him.  But  as  soon  as  he  entered,  Aristagoras 
departed  (this  life).  Where  has  aconite  such  a  power  ? 
Ye  coffin-makers,  *  pelt  Agis  with  crowns  and  chaplets.* 

DCXLI.   WESTMINSTER,   2   BOOK,   23   EP.' 

Bacchylis,  the  ashes  of  the  cups  of  Bacchus,  once  ly- 
ing under  a  disease,  spoke  these  words  to  Ceres — "  If  I 
escape  thoroughly  the  wave  of  a  destructive  fever,  I  will 
drink  in  honour  of  thee  for  a  hundred  suns  from  drops 
of  dew,  without  the  mixture  of  the  wine  of  Bromius 
(Bacchus).  But  when  she  had  escaped  from  the  pain 
(of  the  isease),  on  that  very  day  she  thought  of  a  plan 
of  this  kind.  For  taking  in  her  hand  a  sieve  with  holes 
in  it,  she  cleverly  through  many  (interstices  of  the)  twine  * 
beheld  many  suns. 


All  the  Cilicians  are  bad  men.  But  amongst  the  Cili- 

* — *  This  alludes,  says  Jacobs,  to  the  custom  of  throwing  bouquets  at 
favourite  public  characters  in  public  places. 
'  For  the  sieye  was  made  of  twine. 

Edwards's  selection.  371 

cians  there  is  one  good  man,  Cinyr^s.    But  even  Cinyr^s 
is  a  CiHcian.^ 


A  noxious  viper  once  bit  a  Cappadocian.  But  it  died 
itself,  after  tasting  the  blood,  that  shot  forth  poison,^ 

A  viper  stung  a  Cappadocian's  hide  ; 

And  poison'd  hj  his  blood,  that  instant  died. 

J.  H.  M, 

The  Cappadocians  axe  bad  fellows ;  and  when  they 
obtain  the  military  dress,^  they  are  worse ;  but  the  worst, 
for  the  sake  of  gain.  Arid  if  they  obtain  twice  or  thrice 
the  great  car  (of  office),*  they  then  become  the  very  worst. 
I  pray  you,  king,®  let  them  not  get  it  a  fourth  time,  lest 
the  whole  world  make  a  slip  by  becoming  Cappadocian- 



Fly  from  such  as  in  verses  make  use  of  the  words 
^\oicifa»,  (bald  women,)  or  \o0v«8as,  (torches  of  vine  sticks,) 

*  This  is  an  imitation  of  Pliocylides,  Ep.  636,  thus  parodied  by  Person — 

The  Germans  at  Greek 
Are  sadly  to  seek ; 
Not  fire  in  fivescore, 
But  ninety-nine  more ; 
Except  Godfrey  Hermann ; 
And  Hermann 's  a  German. 

*  Compare  the  distich  of  Byron — 

Die,  as  thou  must ;  and  as  thou  rott'st  away, 
E*en  worms  shall  perish  on  thy  poisonous  clay. 

*  So  Jacobs  explain  ^wvti —     . 

*  Grotius  renders  dirrivriQ  by  "  curules,"  in  allusion  to  the  chair  of 
ofiice  at  Rome. 

*  As  there  is  no  person  to  whom  paaiXtu  can  be  referred,  perhaps  the 
author  wrote  j3a(rtXev  Zev,  not  fiaffiXiVy  firj — 

*  Of  the  three  strange  words  here  mentioned,  one,  says  Jacobs,  is  found 
in  a  fragment  of  Empedocles  quoted  by  AthensBus ;  and,  while  AoKKbg  is 
known  only  from  Hesychius,  Xo^vtc,  according  to  Athenaeus,  was  used 
by  the  Khodians  to  denote  a  torch  made  of  a  vme-branch.  coYered  with 
its  bark. 

2  b2 


dr  KafUKnjva^^  (fiahes,)  a  tribe  of  poets,  who  are  thorn-col- 
lectors/ and  who,  practising  themselves  in  the  tortuous 
arrangement  of  words,  drink  from  a  sacred*  fountain  a 
little  water.  To-day  we  are  making  libations  for  the 
day*  of  Archilochus  and  Homer.  The  flask  does  not 
admit  water-drinkers.* 


Cytotaris — who  is  with  hoary  locks  on  her  temples — 
who  is  an  old  woman  with  many  stories — compared  with 
whom  Nestor  is  not  a  very  old  man — ^who  has  number- 
ed the  light  (of  days)  more  than  a  stag  * — ^who  has  be- 
gun to  count  a  second  time  her  old  age  with  her  left 
hand,^  is  alive  and  sees,  and  is  hale,  like  a  lass,  so  that  I 
am  in  doubt  lest  Hades  had  suffered  somewhat. 

By  Jupiter,  drive  out  Onesimus,  the  old  woman  hard 
of  hearing.  She  gives  me  a  great  deal  of  trouble.  If 
we  tell  her  to  brmg  soft  irvpom,  (cheese,)  she  comes 
bringing  young  wpov9  (wheat).  The  day  before  yester- 
day I  was  sufiering  with  a  head-ache,  and  I  asKed  for 
vri^avov  (rue) ;  and  she  brought  me  rfjyavov  (a  frying- 
pan)  of  eardien-ware ;  if  I  ask  for  oirov  (cream)  she 
brings  \oirov  '  (the  rind  of  some  fruit) :  if  when  hungry 

'  The  word  axat'Oa  was  applied  to  language  as  difficult  to  be  grasped 
as  is  a  thorn. 
»  In  lieu  ofUp^c.  the  sense  requires  OoXeprfs,  "muddy—" 

*  By  the  expression  ^fiap  'Ofi^pov  ffirkvdofiev  is  meant, "  we  are  making 
libations  on  the  day  sacred  to  Homer." 

*  Jacobs  opportunely  refers  to  Horace — "  Nulla  placere  din  nee  car- 
mina  vivere  possunt  Quae  scribuntur  aquae  potoribus ;  "  who  remembered 
the  line  of  Cratinus— "Y^cup  6  irivtov  xpV^^rbv  oif^kv  &v  Hkoi,  **  Who 
water  drinks,  will  nought  that's  good  produce." 

*  According  to  Hesiod  the  stag  was  four  times  as  long-lived  as  the 
crow ;  or,  as  Ausonius  says — At  quater  egreditur  comicis  ssecula  cenrus. 

*  The  ancients,  says  Gronorius,  counted  numbers  up  to  ICX)  on  the  left 
hand;  then  from  100  to  200  on  the  right;  and  from  200  to  300  on  the 
left,  and  so  on  alternately. 

'  The  common  reading  is  doKbv,  to  which  Scaliger  was  the  first  to  ob- 
ject ;  as  he  saw  that  in  all  the  other  words  only  a  single  letter  was  either 
changed  or  added,  to  say  nothing  of  the  absurdity  of  a  servant  bringing 


I  say,  give  me  \axttvov,  (some  vegetable,)  she  straight- 
way brings  \aaavov  (a  dirt  utensil) ;  if  I  ask  for  v^ov, 
(vinegar,)  she  brings  rofoi/  (a  bow);  and  altogether  she 
never  understands  what  I  am  "feaying.  It  is  disgraceful 
for  me  to  become  a  common  crier  for  the  sake  of  an 
old  woman;  and  I  shall  have  to  practise  (the  business), 
when  called  up  in  the  night. 

DCL.   WESTMINSTER,    1    BOOK,  78   EP. 

Simylus,  the  lute-player,  has  killed  all  his  neighbours 
by  playing  on  his  lute,  except  Origcn  alone ;  for  Nature 
has  made  him  deaf;  and  hence  in  return  forbearing  she 
has  given  him  a  longer  existence. 


Do  not  again  after  supper,  when  I  can  no  longer  per- 
suade ^  mv  stomach,  place  before  me  the  teats  and  the 
prepared  ^  cutlets  of  a  sow.  For  not  even  to  farmers  after 
harvest  is  an  unseasonable  rain  useful,  nor  to  sailors  in 
harbour  a  gentle  Zephyr. 

When  the  gorged  stomach  will  no  more  allow, 
Why  tempt  me  with  thy  dainty  paps,  O  sow  ? 
Soft  showers  descend  in  vain,  when  harvest's  o'er  ; 
And  Zephyrs  vainly  breathe  for  those  on  shore. 

J.  H.  M. 

By  bringing  ten  measures  of  charcoal^  be  you  too 
a  citizen ;  *  but  if  you  bring  a  pig,  be  Triptolemus  him- 
self.     But  to  Heracleides,  the  under  secretary,  there 

one  of  the  timbers  of  the  roof  of  a  house.  Hence  for  dirbv^  "  the  juice  *' 
of  some  fniit,  it  was  easy  to  misunderstand  Xoirbvy  "  the  rind." 

'  From  his  "  gorged  stomach  "  it  would  seem  that  J.  H.  M.  wished  to 
read  vXriBw  in  lieu  of  7rtl9ia, 

^  2  In  apra  ri0€i,  where  Jacobs  would  read  Xapd  rtOei,  lies  hid  perhaps 
dpTvra  OkQ — or  some  other  culinary  word. 

*  In  this  Epigram,  sajrs  Jacobs,  is  ridiculed  the  custom  of  persons  buy- 
ing the  privileges  of  citizenship  for  a  trifle. 

*  By  v^tiytiTTlp  is  meant,  says  Jacobs,  the  scribe,  whose  business  it  was 
to  keep  the  register  of  citizens. 


must  be  given  either  the  stalks  of  a  cabbage,  or  a  lentil, 
or  periwinkles.  Have  these,  and  call  yourself  Erech- 
theus,  Cecrops,  Codrus,  and  whom  you  like.  No  one 
takes  any  thought  of  it.  * 

A.  Receive,  Phoebus,  the  supper,  which  I  bring  to 
thee.  PH,  I  will,  if  a  person  permits,  receive  it.  A. 
Dost  thou  then,  son  of  Latona,  fear  any  thing  ?  PH. 
No  one  else  but  Arrius ;  for  he  has  a  hand  stronger  than 
the  rapacious  vidture ;  he,  who  is  the  young  attendant 
upon  a  smokeless  altar ;  but  should  you  perform '  a  sa- 
crifice, he  goes  away  taking  all  with  him.  For  the  am- 
brosia of  Jupiter  great  thanks  (are  due).  For  I  should 
be  one  of  you,  if,  although  a  god,  I  felt*  hunger. 

Yesterday  Dion  stole  (the  figure  of)  Venus  entirely 
of  gold,  as  she  rose  from  her  mother  the  sea,  and  he 
dragged  to  himself  moreover  Adonis,  that  had  been  ham- 
mered out  by  hand,  and  the  little  Cupid  that  was  stand* 
ing  by.  Now  will  those,  who  are  the  best  thieves  say, 
'^  No  longer  come  we  to  a  contest  of  hands  with  you."  * 


Eutychides  stole  the  god  himself,  by  whom  he  was 
about  to  swear,  saying — "  I  cannot  swear  by  thee." 

DCLVIII.    THE  8AME.  • 

Eutychides  stole  Phoebus,  who  is  the  pointer-out  of 
thieves,  saying — Do  not  thou  chatter  very  much,  but 
compare  art  with  art,  and  oracles  with  hands,  and  a  pro- 
phet with  a  thief,  and  a  god  with  Eutychides.  But 
straightway  on  being  sold  on  account  oi  thy  unreined 

*  The  sense  evidently  requires  Tt\i(rgQ  instead  of  TiKkay — 

*  Here  again  the  sense  requires  yadavSfifiv,  not  ytrOdvtTo — for  PhoBbus 
is  speaking  of  himself,  hot  of  another  god. 

*  The  whole  of  this  Epigram  is  a  parody  of  one  by  Antipater  in  West- 
minster, 3  Book,  40  £p. 

Edwards's  selectkjn.  375 

mouth,  say  what  thou  wilt  of  me  to  those,  who  have  pur- 
chased thee. 


*  Pasture  your  drove,  neat-herd,  farther  off,  lest  Peri- 
des  the  thief  drive  you  off  together  with  the  cows  them- 

DCLX.   WESTMINSTER,   2   BOOK,   76  EP. 

A,  Shall  I  touch  a  cabbage,  (say)  thou  bom  at  CyUen^  ? 
B.  Do  not,  passer-by.  A.  What  grudging  is  there  of 
a  cabbage  ?  B,  There  is  no  grudging ;  but  mere  is  a  law 
for  thieving  hands  to  abstain  from  the  property  of  others. 
J.  Oh,  strange  indeed;  Mercury  has  laid  down  a  new 
law—"  Steal  not." 


It  is  no  great  thing  for  me,  when  wetted  by  Jove 
(rain)  and  Bromius  (wine),  to  make  a  slip,  being  one 
(stumbling)  through  two,  and  a  mortal  through  im- 


By  placing  your  nose  and  gaping  mouth  opposite  to 
the  sun,  you  will  show  the  hours  to  those  who  pass  by. 

Let  Dick  some  smmner's  day  expose 

Before  the  sun  his  monstrous  nose, 

And  stretch  his  giant  mouth  to  cause 

Its  shade  to  fall  upon  his  jaws  ; 

With  nose  so  long  and  mouth  so  wide, 

And  those  twelve  grinders  side  by  side, 

Dick,  with  a  very  little  trial, 

Would  make  an  excellent  sun-diaL  J.  H.  M. 


Besas,  if  he  had  any  sense,  would  have  hanged  him- 

' — *  Compare  a  similar  idea  in  Westminster,  1  Book,  63  Ep. 

'  Literally  **  the  blessed  "—But  the  other  is  required  by  the  antithesis. 


self.  But  now,  througli  his  want  of  sense,  he  lives  and  is 
rich,  even  after  his  first  entrance  on  the  scene.' 


It  is  difficult  to  paint  the  soul.  But  to  sketch  the  (out- 
ward) form  is  easy.  But  in  your  case  both  is  the  reverse. 
For  nature  by  bringing  out  the  distortion  of  your  soul 
has  worked  it  out  in  things  to  be  seen.  But  who  could 
paint  the  medley  of  your  form  and  the  brutality  of  your 
body,  when  unwilling  even  to  look  at  them? 


DCLXVn.  — r—  2      —  34  —^ 

DCLXVin.  —    —  75  — 

dClxix.  1    —  32  — 


Amongst  all  who  were  drunk  Acindunus  wished  to 
be  sober ;  hence  it  was  thought  that  he  got  drunk  alone 
by  himself. 

DOLXKI.   WEBTMINSTEB,   4  BOOK,   23  £P. 


A.  Answer  thou,  bom  at  Cyllen6,  to  my  inquiry,  how 
did  the  soul  of  Lollianus  go  down  to  the  house  of  Pro- 
serpine ?  It  were  strange,  if  it  was  silent  B.  It  wished 
to  tell  me  ^  something  that  had  happened.  A.  Alas !  for 
even  the  dead,  who  shall  meet  him. 

*  The  word  vdpo^og  is  properly  applied  to  the  first  song  of  the  Chorus 
in  a  play ;  here  to  a  rhetorician's  first  appearance  before  his  audience. 

*  In  the  Westminster  collection  the  Epigram  is  a  tetrastich,  of  which 
only  the  last  distich  is  given  here ;  and  is  there  attributed  to  Philo ;  but 
here  to  Lucian. 

»  As  Mercury  is  supposed  to  answer,  it  is  etideirt  that  the  author  wrote 

W«,  not  <T€ — 

Edwards's  selection.  377 




Out  (of  thy  house)  thou  teachest  the  evils  of  Paris 
and  Menelaus  ;  but  within  it  thou  hast  many  Parises  for 
thy  Helen. 

DCLXXIV.   WESTMINSTER,   2   BOOK,    83   EP. 


So  may  it  be  for  thee,  Dionysius,^  ever  to  digest  these 
things;  but,  for  the  sake  of  what  is  just,  grant  that  I 
may  eat  something  here.  For  I  too  was  invited,  and 
Poplius  placed  before  me  some  of  these  things  to  taste : 
and  for  me  too  there  is  a  share ;  luiless  indeed,  on  seeing 
me  to  be  thin,  you  thought  I  reclined  (at  supper)  not  in 
robust  health,  and  you  thus  were  on  the  watch,  lest  I 
should  secretly  eat  something. 


I  was  seeking  &om  whence  I  could  derive  the  name 
of  wiVaf  (a  dish) ;  but,  on  being  invited  by  you,  I  found 
out  from  whence  it  was  so  called.  For  you  have  placed 
great  dishes  for  great  ireivfi  (hunger),  and  hungry-look- 
ing dishes  as  the  utensils  for  a  famine. 

DCLXXVn.      WESTMINSTER,   S   BOOK,   86  EP. 

DCLXXVm.  1      —       70  — 


Themistono^,  thrice  as  old  as  a  crow,  after  dyeing  her 
white  hair,  has  become  on  a  sudden  not  *  youth-like,  but 

'  This  is  perhaps  the  oldest  instance  of  a  cuckold  being  said  to  be 

'  The  joke  of  the  Epigram  turns  upon  Dionysius,  who  was  a  medical 
man,  eating  every  thing  at  supper  himself,  to  prevent  a  thin  fellow-guest, 
whom  he  conceived  to  be  in  a  bad  state  of  health,  from  injuring  himself 
by  eating  any  thing. 

* — *  Here  is  a  pun  upon  vka  and  'Pla. 


DCLXXXI.  85  — 


Antiochus  once  saw  the  bolster  of  Lysimacliixs*  That; 
bokter  Lysimachus  never  saw  again. 

Meniscus  saw  old  Cleon's  purse  of  gold : 

That  purse  will  Cleon  never  more  behold.     J.  H.  M. 

Since  Antiochus  set  eyes  upon  Lysimachus's  pad, 
No  chance  of  setting  eyes  on  it  Lysimachus  has  had. 

H.  W. 


That  poet  is  truly  the  best  entirely,  who  gives  a  sup- 
per to  his  audience.  But  if  he  merely  reads  (his  poem) 
and  sends  them  home  hungry,  may  he  turn  upon  him-* 
self  his  own  (poetic)  madness. 

Give  me  the  bard  accustom'd  to  regale 

His  hungry  auditors  with  beef  and  ale ; 

Who  oft  his  friends  with  savoury  pastry  cheers, 

Or  pays  with  pudding  those,  who  lend  their  ears* 

May  he,  who  this  forgets,  with  rhyme  content, 

Dine  on  sweet  thoughts  and  sup  on  sentiment*     Bl^ 



Apollophanes,  the  tragic  actor,  bought  for  five  oboli 
the  dresses  of  five  gods,  the  club  of  Hercules,  the  fear- 
exciting  properties  of  Tisiphon^,^  the  trident  of  Neptune, 
the  weapon^  of  Minerva,  (and)  the  quiver  of  Diana. 
But  the  deities,  who  sit  near  Jove,  were  stript  (to  pur- 
chase) a  small  portion  of  inferior  bread  and  wine. 

*  These  were  a  torch,  snakes,  and  a  cloak  red  with  blood,  as  shown  by 
Ovid  in  Metam.  iv.  480,  "Tisiphone — sumit — facem,  fluidoque  cruore 
rubentem  Induitur  pallam,  tortoqueaccingiturangue." 

^  This  was  the  segis,  says  Jacobs. 

Edwards's  selection.  379 


Althougli  dancing  entirely  according  to  history,  you 
have,  by  neglecting  one  thing  of  the  greatest  moment, 
pained  (me)  greatly.  For  in  dancing  the  part  of 
Niob^,  you  stood  like  a  rock;  and  again,  while  you  were 
Capaneus,  you  fell  down  on  a  sudden ;  but  in  the  part 
of  Canac^,  you  did  unnaturally,  when  there  was  a  sword 
by  you,  go  off  the  stage  alive.  This  was  contrary  to  the 

In  historical  ballets  'tis  a  great  want  of  tact 

To  neglect  closely  sticking  to  matters  of  fact. 

In  the  Niobe  dance  you  stood  just  like  a  rock, 

And  your  tumble  in  Capaneus  came  with  a  shock  ; 

But  in  Canac6's  part  I  am  forced  to  object, 

That  to  go  off  alive,  sword  in  hand,  's  incorrect.    H.  W. 


Pluto  does  not  receive  Marcus  the  orator  when  dead, 
saying — Let  Cerberus  the  dog  be  sufficient  here ;  but  if 

}rou  wish  it,  altogether  ^  practise  before  Ixion  and  Me- 
ito,  the  lyric-poet,  and  Tityus.  For  I  have  no  evil 
greater  than  you,  \mtil  Rufus,  the  grammarian,  shall 
come  here  with  his  solecisms. 


Even  when  not  speaking,  '^Flaccus  the  rhetorician  was 
guilty  of  a  solecism^  lately;  and  being  about  to  open 
his  mouth,  he  straightway  became  a  barbarian,  and  in 
other  respects  he  solecizes  by  nodding  with  his  hand,  and 
I,  on  seeing  him,  my  mouth  was  bound. 

\  For  Canac^  was  said  to  have  destroyed  herself. 

'  In  vdvTtag  there  probably  lies  hid  (rrofia  do{>c — 

8 — 3  To  prove  that  Flaccus  firiSk  XaXwv — hoXoiKiee,  it  is  added  that 
rS  x«tp« — ffoXoiKiKH  tiaviviiiv :  -while  to  confirm  the  assertion,  x^**'*'*'"* 
ipapfidpiffef  the  writer  seems  to  have  added  K<iy w  d'  airbv  idwv  rb  vrSfia 
fiov  dfhrai —  an  expression  used  probably  by  Flaccus  instead  of  SkStftai, 
what  correct  syntax  would  require.  And  thus,  too,  we  may  defend  /jxeX- 
Xiiw  xai-vtiv — ipcipfidpuTiv,  where  one  would  otherwise  prefer  cat  fAaXXop 



Not  the  Chimcera,  according  to  Homer,  had  so  bad  a 
breath,  nor  the  herd  of  fire-breathing  bulls,  as  the  story- 
goes  ;  not  the  whole  of  Lcmnos,^  and  the  superfluities*  of 
file  Harpies,  nor  the  foot  of  Philoctetes  when  rotting 
away ;'  so  that  you,  Telessilla,  by  the  votes  of  all,  con- 

Juer  in  this  Chimaeras,  rottenness,  bulls,  birds,  (and) 
<emnian  (women). 

DCXO.     WEStMmSTEIt,  2  BOOK,  20  SP. 

DCXOI. I      —        9  — 

DOXCn.  2      —      29  — 


The  envious  Diophon,  on  seeing  near  him  another 
person  impaled  on  a  cross  longer  than  his  own,  wasted 

Poor  Cleon  out  of  envy  died, 

His  brother  thief  to  see 
Nail'd  near  him  to  be  crucified 
Upon  a  higher  tree.  F.  H. 

Nicono^  was  once  in  her  prime.     *  And  so  say  I;* 

•  Thi*  alludes,  says  Jacobs,  to  die  story  told  by  ApoUodonis,  i.  9,  of 
Yenus  having  punished  the  women  of  Lesbos  with  a  bad  breath. 

•  Jacobs  explains  *Ap9rv(wv  rd  jrepiffffdt  by  saying  that  the  relics  of  the 
food,  on  which  the  Harpies  fed,  emitted  an  unpleasant  smell.  But  rd 
irepiffffd  could  hardly  mean  the  relics.  Perhaps  the  poet  wrote  Ov  A^/4- 
vog  ffvfiwaa^f  d  xai  *Apirvi&p  Trip*  dti<n — "  Not  the  whole  of  Lemnos, 
and  what  the  wings  of  the  Harpies  breathe  out—" 

•  Jacobs  refers  to  Hyginus,  Fab.  102,  where  it  is  said  that  such  a  stench 
arose  from  the  wounded  foot  of  PhQoctetes,  that  the  Greeks  were  com- 
pelled to  send  him  away  to  Lenmos. 

♦— ♦  From  the  expression  icdyw  Xiyw,  it  is  evident  that  those  words 
were  spoken  in  answer  to  a  remark ;  and  hence  the  whole  Epigram  was 
written  in  the  form  of  a  dialogue,  as  marked  in  the  second  metrical 

Edwards's  selection.  381 

she  was  herself  in  her  prime,^  when  Deucalion  saw  water 
without  end.  Of  those  matters  we  know  nothing ;  but 
that  it  now  behoves  her  to  seek  not  a  husband,  but  a 

Of  charms  Niconoe  might  have  boasted 

With  reason  in  her  prime ; 
Perhaps  by  every  wit  was  toasted, 
Who  lived  in  Noah's  time. 

But  now  her  days  of  love  are  over, 

Of  ogling  and  of  sighing ; 
'Twere  wise  no  more  to  seek  a  lover, 

But  think  at  last  of  dying.  Bl. 

A.  Niconoe  once  was  in  her  prime. 

B.  I  sav  so  too.     A,  Your  eyes  then  cast 
Upon  her  now.     B,  Thep  was  the  time. 

When  saw  Deucalion  waters  vast 
Around  him.     A,  Nought  of  things  we  know 
That  happened  many  years  ago. 
B,  But  of  things  present  we  can  speak ; 

She  should  a  tomb,  not  husband  seek.     G.  B. 


Some  one  came  to  inquire  of  Olympicus,  the  wizard, 
whether  he  should  sail  to  Rhodes,  and  how  he  should 
sail  in  safety.  And  the  vidzard  said — First  have  a  new 
vessel,  and  do  not  set  sail  in  winter,  but  in  the  summer ; 
for,  if  you  act  thus,  you  will  go  thither  and  hither  again,^ 
unless  a  pirate  lays  hold  of  you  at  sea. 

"  Olympic  Seer,*'  said  a  wayfaring  man, 

"  Tell  me,  to  Rhodes  how  may  I  safely  sail?" 

"  First  let  the  ship  be  sound,"  the  sage  began, 
*'  Next  court  the  summer,  not  the  winter  gale. 

Do  this,  and  thou  shalt  go  and  come  again ; 

Unless  a  pirate  seize  thee  on  the  main."        Hat. 

'  As  there  is  not  a  particle  of  meaning  here  in  the  word  air)),  it  is 
probable  the  poet  wrote  ffKfiaff,  'iS*  avrijv — where  *I^  avTrjv  would  be 
said  pointedly  of  Nicono6. 

»  Instead  of  &h  the  sense  requires  «^  ad — answering  to  *'  again,**  in 
Hay*8  translation. 



Tom,  prudently  thinking  bis  labour  iU-spared, 
If  e'er  unadvised  for  bis  plans  be  prepared, 
Considted  a  Seer  on  bis  passage  to  Dover, 
If  tbe  wind  would  be  fair  and  tbe  voyage  well  over. 
Tbe  Seer  gravely  answer'd,  first  stroking  bis  beard, 
"  If  tbe  vessel  be  new,  and  well-rigg'd  and  well  steer'd. 
If  you  stay  all  tbe  winter,  and  still  wait  on  sbore 
TiU  tbe  spring  is  advanced,  and  tbe  equinox  o'er, 
You  may  sail  tbere  and  back,  witbout  danger  or  fear — 
Unless  you  are  caugbt  by  a  Frencb  privateer." 


Artemidorus,  counting  over  many  myriads  (of  small 
coins)  and  expending  nothing,  lives  the  life  of  mnles,^ 
who  frequently  have  on  their  backs  a  great  burden  of 
valuable  gold,  but  eat  only  fodder. 


Stepbanus  was  a  poor  man  and  a  gardener  likewise. 
But  now,  after  getting  on  in  life,  he  is  rich,  and  bas 
straightway  become  Philo-Stepbanus,  by  adding  four* 
pretty  letters  to  the  first  Stephanus ;  and  in  due  time  lie 
will  be  Hippocrat-ippi-ades,^  or,  through  his  notions  of 
luxury,  Dionysio-pegano-dorus,*  but  in  every  list  of  the 
market-steward*  he  remains  Stephanus. 

DCXOVm.     WESTMINSTEB,   2   BOOK,   21   EP.. 

*  This  allusion  to  mules  is  explained  by  a  similar  story  in  Plutarch,  ii. 
p.  525,  D.,  quoted  by  Jacobs. 

*  The  four  are  in  Greek  ^tXo.  Something  similar  is  said  to  have 
taken  place  in  modem  times.  For  the  celebrated  O'Gonnell  is  reported 
to  have  prefixed  O  to  his  family  name  Connell,  with  the  view  of  showing 
his  connexion  with  one  of  the  old  families  of  Ireland. 

'  This  would  mean  in  English,  "  the  son  of  Hippias,  the  tamer  of 

*  This  would  mean  literally,  "  the  giver  of  wine  mixed  with  rue.** 

'  Jacobs  says  that  dyopavofuov  is  not  found  elsewhere.  He  forgot  that 
in  Plato,  Legg.  xi.  p.  91/,  £.,  Stephens  properly  suggested  dyopavofiiov 
in  lieu  of  dyopavdfiov. 



A,  What,  stranger,  are  you  inquiring  about?  B. 
Who  are  they  in  the  ground  under  these  tombs  ?  A. 
Those,  whom  Zopyrus  has  deprived  of  the  pleasant 
light,  namely,  Damis,  Aristotle,  Demetrius,  Arcesilaus, 
Sostratus,  and  those  farther  off  as  far  as  Paraetonium.^ 
For  having,  like  Mercury,  a  wand — (but)  made  of 
wood,  and  winged  feet  (but)  not  genuine,  he  leads  down 
(to  the  grave)  those,  whom  he  has  attended. 

DCO.    WESTMINSTEE,    I   BOOK,  80  EP. 


A  deaf  person  had  a  law-suit  with  (another)  deaf 
person ;  and  the  judge  was  still  more  deaf  than  the  two 
(contending  parties) ;  of  whom  one  said  that  the  other 
owed  him  house-rent  for  five  months ;  and  the  other, 
that  he  had  been  working  at  a  mill  all  night;  when  the 
judge,  looking  at  them,  said — ^Why  are  ye  contending  ? 
You  have  a  mother.     Both  of  you  support  her. 
Defendant  and  Plaintiff  were  deaf  as  a  post, 
And  the  judge  in  the  cause  was  deafer  almost : 
The  Plaintiff  he  sued  for  a  five-months'  rent ; 
The  Defendant  thought  something  different  meant, 
And  answered — "  By  night  I  did  grind  the  com ;" 
And  the  judge  he  decided  with  anger  and  scorn — 
"  The  woman 's  the  mother  of  both ;  why  then, 
Maintain  her  between  you,  undutiful  men."      C.  C.  S. 


Sooner  shall  a  beetle  make  honey,  or  a  gnat  milk, 
than  shall  you,  being  a  scorpion,  do  any  good  thing. 
For  you  neither  do  any  thing  yourself  willingly,  nor 
suffer  another ;  and,  like  the  star  of  Saturn,^  are  hated 
by  all. 

^  Jacobs  conceives  that  Zop3rrus  is  feigned  to  have  filled  with  dead 
bodies  the  whole  of  the  sea-board  of  Egypt,  eren  to  ParaBtonium,  which 
was  the  limit  of  that  country  to  the  west. 

'  On  the  malign  influence  of  the  star  of  Saturn  Jacobs  refers  to  Horace, 
Odes,  U.  17,  22. 


DCCm.   WESTMINSTER,    1   BOOK,   86    EP. 


Proclus  is  unable  to  wipe  his  nose  with  his  hand,  for 
he  has  his  hand  shorter  than  his  nose ;  nor  does  he  say— 
"  Jove,  save  me,"  ^  when  he  sneezes,  for  he  does  not  hear 
(the  sound  of)  his  nose ;  since  it  is  far  out  of  hearing. 

Proclus  with  his  hand  his  nose  can  never  wipe  ; 
His  hand  too  little  is  his  nose  to  gripe : 
He  sneezing  calls  not  Jove ;  for  why  ?  he  hears 
Himself  not  sneeze ;  the  sound's  far  oflP  his  ears. 

T.  Brown. 
Dick  cannot  wipe  his  nostrils  when  he  pleases  ; 

His  nose  so  long  is,  and  his  arm  so  short : 
Nor  ever  cries — *'  Grod  bless  me,"  when  he  sneezes, 

He  cannot  hear  so  distant  a  report.  J.  H.  M. 


As  if  he  had  sacrificed  a  garden,  Apelles  placed  be- 
fore me  a  supper,  thinking  he  was  feeding  sheep  instead 
of  friends.  There  was  turnip,  succory,  fenugreek,  let- 
tuce, leeks,  bulbs,  sweet-swelling  basil,  ri^e,  asparagus. 
And  fearing  lest  after  this  he  would  place  before  me 
fodder,  I  fled  after  supping  on  half-boiled  lupines. 

DCCVL     WESTMINSTER,  2    BOOK,   35   EP. 

Thou  wear'st  a  fan,  lest  flies  the  beauty  spoil 
Of  beard,  thou  deem'st  the  nourisher  of  brains. 

Shave  it  off  quickly.     Trust  me,  vain 's  thy  toil. 
Beards  feed  not  biting  wit,  but  lice  that  pain.     G.  B. 


From  the  words  ^<?>  '70^6,  and  fiuJv  ovy,  and  wot  Brj^  and 
voOev,  (and)  «S  'rai/,  and  Oafia,  and  0e/)e  5  7,  and  ho/iiB^,  and 

'  The  custom  of  saying  *'  God  bless  you  "  to  a  person  when  nieezmg» 
owed  its  origin  to  the  notion  that  sneezing  was  supposed  to  bean  incipi- 
ent symptom  of  the  plague,  or  other  fatal  disorder. 

'— '  The  words  here  enumerated  are  taken  from   the  dialogues  of 


f(9i,*  and  (from  things,  as) '  a  short  cloak,  bushy  hair^ 
a  beard,  (and)  shoulder-blade  uncoyered,  the  wisdom  of 
the  present  time  gains  a  reputation. 


Jupiter  has  given  in  the  place  of  fire  another  fire, 
namely,  women.  Would  that  neither  woman  nor  fire 
had  appeared.  The  fire  is  quickly  extinguished  indeed ; 
but  woman  is  a  fire  not  to  be  extmguished,  burning  and 
lighted  up  at  all  times. 


If  you  boast  greatly  that  you  do  not  obey  the  orders 
of  your  wife,  you  talk  silly.  For  you  are  not,  as  they 
say,  ^sprung  from  an  oak  nor  a  rock;^  and,  what  the 
majority  of  all  of  us  suflTer  of  necessity,  you  too  are 
ruled  by  your  wife ;  and  if  you  say — I  am  not  beaten 
by  her  slipper,  nor  must  I,  when  my  wife  acts  impro- 
perly, bear  it  and  hold  my  tongue, — I  say  that  your 
slavery  is  moderate,  since  you  are  sold  to  a  mistress 
considerate  and  not  very  harsh. 


I  have  sworn  ten  thousand  times  I  would  make 
epigrams  no  more.  For  I  have  brought  upon  me  the 
enmity  of  many  fools.  But  when  I  look  upon  the  face 
of  Pantagathus  the  Paphlagonian,  I  cannot  restrain  my 
disease  (of  writing). 


Menander,  standing  in  a  vision  before  Paulus  the 

Plato,  and  mean  respectively— O  (my)  good  man ;  do  not  then ;  whither 
then?  from  whence?  O  friend;  frequently;  come  (say)  then;  really; 

*  The  things  enumerated  refer  to  the  peculiar  dress  of  philosophers, 
especially  those  of  the  sect  of  Cynics. 

*— »  The  writer  alludes  to  Homer  IX.  X.  126,  and  Ol.  T.  162. 
2  c 


comedian^  said — ^'  I  have  (said)  nothing  against  you ; 
and  yet  you  speak  ill  of  me."  * 

Once  in  a  fearful  vision  of  the  night 

Lothario  seem'd  Rowe's  frowning  ghost  to  see. 

"  I  never  wrong'd  thee,**  said  the  laurelled  sprite, 

"  Oh !  why,  Lothario,  dost  thou  murder  me."    J.  H.  M. 


Memphis,  the  flat-nosed,  danced  the  parts  of  Daphn^ 
and  Niob^;  that  of  Daphn^,  like  a  person  of  wood; 
that  of  Niob^,  of  stone. 

The  dance  of  Memphis  well  portra/d 

Daphn6  and  Niobe ; 
Like  stone  the  Niobe  he  play*d, 

The  Daphn6  like  a  tree.  H.  W. 


You  have  insulted  not  me,  but  Poverty ;  and  if  Jupi- 
ter were  upon  earth  as  a  poor  person,  he  would  himself 
have  suffered  an  insult. 

'Tis  on  poverty  only,  but  not  upon  me 
That  your  insolence  leaves  any  trace. 

If  Jove  were  a  beggar  on  earth,  even  he 

Would  share  in  a  beggar's  disgrace.  H.  W. 


If  ye  are  fiovaxol  (living  alone),  why  so  many  ?  and  if 
SO  many,  how,  on  the  other  hand,  living  alone?  Oh  ye 
multitude  of  fiovaxol  (those  living  alone),  who  give  the 
lie  to  fiovaSa  (aloneness). 

Thou  hast  a  son  (called)  Love,  and  a  wife  (called) 

'  The  pun  in  the  Greek,  KaK&s  \it  Xkyaq,  which  means  "  you  speak  ill 
of  me,"  or,  "  you  speak  ill  my  words,"  is  lost  in  the  English,  except  by 
an  imitation. 

Edwards's  selection.  387 

Aphrodite ;  not  unjustly  then,  blacksmith,  dost  thou 
have  a  lame  foot.* 

DCCXVn.    WESTMINSTBB,  2   BOOK,  97   BP. 


An  \inhappy  man  went  to  Diodorus  the  rhetorician 
and  made  an  inquiry  of  him  on  this  point  of  law.  My 
female  servant  some  time  ago  ran  away.  And  some  one 
on  finding  her,  and  knowing  that  she  was  the  servant  of 
a  stranger,  united  her  to  his  own  male  servant,  and  by 
him  she  had  children.  Now  of  whom  are  the  children 
most  justly  the  slaves.  And  he,  after  he  had  pondered 
and  looked  into  each  book,  said,  turning  (towards  the 
inquirer)  his  arched  eye-brows — "  Either  to  you  or  the 
party  who  got  hold  of  the  female  servant  it  must  needs 
be  that  those  children,  about  whom  you  are  speaking, 
are  the  slaves.  But  do  you  seek  out  an  intelligent^ 
judge,  and  you  will  quickly  obtain  a  decision  of  greater 
authority,  ^ if  you  are  stating  what  is  just."* 

A  plaintiff  thus  explain'd  his  cause 
To  counsel  learned  in  the  laws. 
"  My  bond-maid  lately  ran  away, 
And  in  her  flight  was  met  by  A ; 
Who,  knowing  she  belonged  to  me, 
Espoused  her  to  his  servant  B. 
The  issue  of  this  marriage,  pray, 
^  Do  they  belong  to  me  or  A  ?" 
The  lawyer,  true  to  his  vocation, 
Grave  signs  of  deepest  cogitation ; 
Look'd  at  a  score  of  books,  or  near. 
Then  hemm'd  and  said — "  Your  case  is  clear. 

'  Like  Vulcan,  who  was  the  husband  of  Venus,  who  was  the  mother 
of  Love. 

•  In  lieu  of  e^/tevsoira,  "  well-disposed,"  the  sense  evidently  requires 
ivyoov  ovTUf  as  translated. 

» — ^  The  common  reading  is  tl  ye  dixaia  Xsyeis,  But  it  was  the  business 
of  the  judge  to  say  what  is  just,  not  of  the  party,  laying  his  case  before 
counsel.    The  autiior  wrote,  no  doubt,  with  a  ridicule  of  the  judge,  el  rd 
SiKaia  Xlyec,  "  if  he  says  what  is  just." 
2  c  2 


Those  children,  so  begot  by  B 

Upon  your  bond-maid,  most,  you  see, 

Be  yours  or  A's.    Now  this  I  say, 

They  can't  be  yours,  if  they  to  A 

Belong.    It  follows  then  of  course. 

That,  if  they  are  not  his,  they're  yours. 

Therefore,  by  my  advice,  in  ^ort. 

Ton  11  take  i^e  opinion  of  the  court"        J.  H.  M. 


I  sneezed  ^  near  a  tomb ;  and  wished  to  hear  myeelf, 
what  I  was  thinking  of,  the  death  of  my  wife,  fiut  I 
sneezed  to  the  windls.  For  nothing  of  a  sad  kind  hap- 
pened to  my  wife,  neither  a  disorder^  nor  death. 


BovXevciff  (you  are  a  senator)  Agathinus.  Now  at  what 
price  did  you  purchase  the  Br  For  the  letter  was 
formerly  A  (i.  e.  AovXevci*,  you  are  a  slave). 


A,  What  mortal.  Justice,  has  dishonoured  you  ?  B, 
The  thief,  who  placed  me  here,  who  has  nothing  to  do 
with  me. 


Who  has  taJken  away  Mercury  the  thief?  Bold  was 
the  thief,  who  has  gone  away,  taMng  with  him  the 
prince  of  thieves. 


If  a  person>  after  marrying  once,  goes  again  in  pur- 
suit of  a  second  marriage,  he  sails  twice  shipwrecked  on 
the  destructive  deep. 

A  widower  once,  who  courts  a  second  chain, 
Tempts,  like  the  shipwreck'd  sailor,  shoals  again. 

J.  H.  M. 

^  On  sneezing,  as  an  omen  of  good,  Biodaras  refers  to  Horn.  O^. 
P.  541. 

Edwards's  sblection.  389 

dccxxtv.  westminsteb,  2  book,  27  ep. 


A  Phrygian,  standing  by  tlie  tomb  of  the  fearless 
AJBXy  was  beginning  to  throw  out  saucy  words,  (and 
said) — ^"Ajax  did  not  remain:"^  but  he  spoke  in  re- 
turn from  below — "He  did  remain:"  and  the  other 
although  alive  did  not  endure  (the  voice  of)  the  dead. 


^All  hail!  ye  seven  pupils  of  Aristides  the  rheto- 
rician, namely,  the  four  walls  (of  the  room)  and  the 
three  benches  (in  it)*^ 


Boidion  the  flute-player  and  Pythias,  who  were  for- 
merly thy  lovers,  have  offered  up  to  thee,  Venus,  their 
girdles  and  portraits.  Thy  purse,  O  foreign  merchant 
and  freight-carrier,^  knows  from  whence  are  the  girdles 
and  the  pictures. 

Caelia  and  Lyce,  once  to  lovers  known, 

To  Venus  vow*d  a  portrait  and  a  zone. 

Oh  I  wandering  god  of  trade  I  thy  purse  can  tell 

Both  whence  the  zone  and  whence  the  portrait  fell. 

J.  H.  M. 



For  thee,  O  Phoebus,  are  hung  up  this  bent  bow, 
and  quiver  rejoicing  in  arrows,  as  the  gifts  from  Pro- 
machus ;  but  the  arrows  (themselves)  hostile  men  have 
in  their  hearts,  the  deadly  presents  from  a  stranger,  during 
the  bustle  (of  a  battle). 

' — »  The  words  alluded  to  are  in  Horn.  IX.  O.  717. 
• — *  A  similar  story,  says  Jacobs,  is  found  in  Athenaeus,  viii.  p.  348,  D. 
'  Jacobs  quotes  opportunely  from  Horace,  "  seu  Yocat  institor  Seu  na^is 
Hispanae  magister  Dedecorum  pretiosus  emptor." 


Phoebus !    to  thee  this  curved  bow  and  empty-sounding 

Are  offer'd  at  thj  sacred  shrine,  by  Promachus,  the  giver. 
But  ah  !  the  shafts  that  used  within  that  painted  case  to 

Now  in  the  foemen's  hearts  are  sheath'd,  whom  he  hath 

slain  in  battle.  J.  H.  M. 


It  is  likely  that  Venus  will  with  delight  receive  as  an 
offering  this  cap  from  the  hair  of  Samutha.  For  it  is 
elaborately  worked,  and  it  smells  sweetly  of  that  nectar, 
with  which  she  anointed  the  beautiful  Adonis. 


To  Pan  with  hair  erect,  and  to  the  Nymphs  of  Aulis, 
Theodotus  the  shepherd  has  offered  up  tlus  gift  under 
a  look-out  spot,  because  they  relieved  him  wmle  suffer- 
ing greatly  during  .a  burning  summer,  and  with  their 
hands  stretched  out  pointed  to  sweet-flowing  water. 

To  shaggy  Pan  and  all  the  Wood-Nymphs  fair, 
Fast  by  the  rock  this  grateful  offering  stands, 
A  shepherd's  gift  to  those,  who  gave  him  there 
Rest,  when  he  fainted  in  the  sultry  air, 

And  reach'd  him  sweetest  water  with  their  hands. 

J.  W.  B. 
Ye  Hamadryad  ^  Nymphs,  daughters  of  a  river,  who 
ever  traverse  these  ambrosial  depths  with  rosy  feet,  all 
hail,  and  preserve  Cleonymus,  who  placed  these  beauti- 
ful statues  under  the  pines  in  honour  of  you  goddesses. 

O  Forest-Nymphs,  O  daughters  of  the  river. 
Who  haunt  ambrosial  these  deep  glades  for  ever 

With  rosy  feet. 
Thrice  hail,  and  be  Cleonymus  your  care. 

For  he,  in  this  pine-shelter'd,  calm  retreat. 
To  you  erected  all  these  statues  fair.  J.  W,  B. 

'  Instead  of  afuxipvdits  one  would  have  expected  here  i^vSpidSic — 
**  Dresiding  over  waters." 



Its  motlier^  as  being  poor,  presents  to  Bacchus  a  pic- 
ture of  her  Micythus,  after  painting  it  a  mere  daub. 
But  do  you,  Bacchus,  place  Micythus  on  high.  If  the 
gift  be  worthless,  it  is  poverty  not^  little  that  brings 
this  offering. 


Three  brothers  offer  to  thee,  rustic  Pan,  these  their 
nets,  one  from  one  kind  of  capture,  another  from  another ; 
Pigres  these,  who  (lives)  from  winged  animals ;  Damis 
these,  who  (lives)  from  four-footed ;  Cleitor  the  third, 
from  those  in  the  sea.  In  return  for  which  send  thou 
to  one  the  prey  struck  successftdly  through  the  air ;  to 
another,  that  through  thickets ;  and  to  another,  that  by 
the  sea-shore. 

DCCXXXV.    UNCERTAIN  ;   some  say,  LEONIDAS." 

To  the  Satyrs,  who  drink  sweet  wine,  and  to  Bacchus, 
the  vine-grower,  Heronax  dedicates  the  pluckings  from 
the  first  produce,  these  three  casks  from  three  vineyards, 
a&er  filling  them  with  the  first-drawn  wine ;  from  which, 
after  malong  a  libation,  as  is  lawful,  to  the  red-faced 
Bacchus  and  the  Satyrs,  we  will  drink  more  than  the 


To  Pan  living  in  the  fields,  and  to  Bacchus  the  re- 
veller, and  to  the  Nymphs,  the  aged  Biton  of  Arcadia 
has  made  these  offerings ;  to  Pan  a  kid  recently  bom, 
that  plays  with  its  mother ;  and  to  Bacchus  a  branch  of 
the  much-wandering  ivy ;  and  to  the  Nymphs  the  vari- 
ously-coloured produce  of  the  shaded  grape,  and  the 
blood-coloured  petals  of  expanded  roses.  In  return  for 
which  do  ye.  Nymphs,  cause  this  dwelling  oi  the  old 

'  Instead  of  &  the  sense  evidently  requires  oit,  as  translated. 
'  Compare  Westm.  2  Book,  91  Ep. 


man  to  be  well-watered ;  and  thou.  Pan,  to  be  fiill  of 
milk ;  and  tbou,  Baccbns,  witb  many  grape-bunches. 

To  Pan,  the  master  of  the  woodland  plain^ 

To  youDg  LjaBus,  and  the  azure  train 

Of  Nymphs,  that  make  the  pastoral  Hfe  their  care, 

With  offerings  due  old  Biton  forms  his  prayer. 

To  Pan  a  playful  kid,  in  wars  untried, 

He  vows,  still  sporting  by  its  mother's  sid^; 

And  lays  the  creeping  ivy  on  the  vine, 

A  grateful  present  to  the  god  of  wine ; 

And  to  the  gentler  deities,  who  guide    . 

Their  winding  streamlets  o'er  the  mountain's  side, 

Each  varied  bud  from  autumn's  shady  bowers, 

Mix'd  with  the  full-blown  roses'  purple  flowers. 

Therefore,  ye  Nymphs,  enrich  my  narrow  field 

With  the  fuU  stores  your  bounteous  fountains  yield ; 

Pan,  bid  my  luscious  pails  with  milk  o'erflow ; 

And,  Bacchus,  teach  my  yeUow  vines  to  glow. 

J.  H.  M. 


These  spoils  are  not  mine.  Who  has  huM  up  on 
the  coping-stone  this  graceless  gift  to  Mars  ?  "Die  cones 
of  the  helmets  are  unbroken ;  the  shining  shields  are 
bloodless;  and  unbroken  are  the  fragile  spears.  My 
whole  face  is  red  with  shame ;  and  from  my  forehead 
sweat  drops  on  my  breast,  as  if  from  a  fountain.  With 
such  things  let  a  person  adorn  a  private  chapel,  or  an 
eating-room  for  men,  or  a  hall,  or  a  bridal  chamber; 
but  let  spoils  stained  with  blood  adorn  the  temple  of 
Mars,  who  pursues  on  horse-back;  for  with  such  are 
we  delighted. 

These  are  no  spoils  of  mine.     Who  dares  to  place 
Such  offerings  here,  and  thinks  this  fane  to  grace  ? 
Unbroken  is  each  helmet's  crest ;  and  clear 
Each  bloodless  shield ;  unscathed  each  fragile  spear. 
With  shame  my  face  is  fired  ?  and  from  my  brow 
Down  to  my  breast  big  drops  of  anger  flow. 

Edwards's  selection.  393 

Hence ;  with  such  trophies  deck  thy  porch,  thy  hall, 
The  court-yard  of  thy  house,  thy  chamher  wall ; 
But  Mars — ^besprent  with  gore  itie  arms  must  be 
That  deck  his  temple  ;  such  are  dear  to  me.     H,  W. 


Oh  !  thou  cold  water,  that  leapest  down  from  a  double 
rock,  all  hail ;  and  ye  images  of  the  Nymphs  carved  by 
shepherds,  *and  ye  rocks,  and  these  ornaments  of  yours, 
oh !  virgins,  perpetually  wetted  by  the  waters  of  foun- 
tains,^ all  hail.  Behold,  I,  Aristocles,  a  way-farer,  give 
vou  this  horn,  with  which*,  after  dipping  it  (in  the  water), 
I  drove  away  thirst. 

Farewell,  cool  rills,  that  from  the  cleft  rock  start. 
And  fountain-heads,  and,  carved  by  rustic  art. 
Your  forms,  sweet  maiden  Nymphs,  who  own  this  wave ; 
Adieu,  th'  unnumbered  charms  your  waters  lave. 
The  cup  of  horn,  he  dipp'd  there  to  relieve 
•    His  thirst,  from  Aristoclees  receive.  H.  W. 


These  are  the  shields  from  the  Lucanians ;  and  the 
bridles  placed  in  rows,  and  the  spears  polished  about  the 
handles,^  have  been  built  up  for  Pallas ;  but  about  their 
(owners)  dark  death  has  opened  its  jaws. 


Receive,  Hercules,me,  the  holy  shield  of  Archestratus, 
in  order  that,  reclining  against  a  polished  chapel,  I  may 
become  old,  while  hearing  the  dances  and  hymns.  Of 
the  hateful  contest  of  Mars  let  there  be  enough. 

> — »  The  Greek  is  at  present  IlErpot  re  Kptivitav  Kai  iv  ^Satrt, — out  of 
which  Reiske  and  others  have  been  unable  to  make  any  thing  satisfactory. 
And  yet  it  is  easy  to  see  that  the  author  probably  wrote,  as  translated,  Kai 
vkrpaif  Kpriv&v  r*  tiv  iJ^a<ft — 

'  Jacobs  would  understand  by  <i/«fii3oXot—"  armed  in  both  parts." 
But  that  appears  scarcely  intelligible.  The  version  "  about  the  handles  " 
has  been  introduced,  as  u  the  author  had  written  d/i^i  XajSdc — 



.When  Eudc^us  had  shorn  his  first  beautiful  locks,  he 
presented  to  Phcebus  the  charm  of  boyhood.  In  return 
for  his  ringlets,  may  the  beauty  of  thou,  oh !  fsur-darter, 
come  upon  him,  and  the  ivy  of  Achamas  ^  ever  increase 
(about  him). 


The  roses  sprinkled  with  dew,  and  that  thick  creeping 

!)lant,  are  placed  for  the  Muses  of  Helicon ;  but  the  dark- 
eav^ed  laurel  for  thee,  O  Pythian  FsBan ;  since  the  rock 
of  Delphi  has  made  this  an  honour  to  thee.  And  this 
goat  with  horns  and  a  shaggy  coat  shall  stain  thy  altar 
with  blood,  through  his  nibbling  the  extreme  bough  of 
the  terminthus.^ 

This  wild  thyme  and  these  roses  moist  with  dews, 
Are  sacred  to  the  Heliconian  Muse. 
The  bay,  Apollo,  with  dark  leaves  is  thine ; 
Thus  art  thou  honoured  at  the  Delphic  shrine ; 
And  there  to  thee  this  shaggy  goat  I  vow. 
That  loves  to  crop  the  pine-tree's  pendent  bough. 


Daphnis,  the  fair-skinned,  he,  who  with  pretty  pipe 
playea  pastoral  tunes,  has  offered  up  to  Fan  these  things 
— the  bored  reeds,  the  hare-striking  weapon,  the  sharp 
pole,  the  fawn-skin  and  wallet,  in  which  he  carried 


The  Venus  is  not  the  common  one.  Propitiate,  the 
goddess  by  speaking  of  her  as  the  heavenly  offering  of 
the  chaste  Chrysogon^  in  the  house  of  Amphicles,  toge- 

^  From  this  mention  of  the  ivy  of  AcliamaB  it  would  seem  that  Eu- 
doxus  gave  promise  of  being  a  dramatic  writer ;  for  such  persons,  when 
successful,  were  crowned  wiUi  that  ivy. 

*  The  terminthus  was  a  kind  of  pine,  or  flax-plant. 

Edwards's  seleotiok.  395 

ther  with  whom  she  had  children,  and  a  life  in  common ; 
and  to  them,  beginning  (their  rites)  from  you,  O  vener- 
able goddess,  there  was  ever  something  better  during 
the  year.  For  the  mortals,  who  have  a  care  for  the  im- 
mortals, do  themselves  gain  something  additional. 

Here  Venus  not  the  vulgar  you  survey  ; 
Style  her  celestial  and  your  offerings  pay ; 
This  in  the  house  of  Amphicles  was  placed. 
Fair  present  of  Chrysogone  the  chaste  ; 
With  him  a  sweet  and  social  life  she  led, 
And  many  children  bore  and  many  bred. 
Favour'd  by  thee,  O  venerable  fair, 
Each  year  improved  upon  the  happy  pair. 
For  long  as  men  the  deities  adore, 
With  Is^ge  abundance  Heaven  augments  their  store. 



Callistion,  the  daughter  of  Critias,  has  offered  to  the 
god  of  Canopus  me,  a  lamp  rich  with  twenty  wicks, 
after  making  a  vow  about  her  child  Apellis ;  and  you 
will  say,  when  looking  upon  my  lights — "How  hast 
thou  fallen,  Hesperus ! " 


To  thee,  Diana,  has  Phileratis  placed  this  statue  here. 
Do  thou,  O  venerable  (goddess),  receive  it,  and  preserve 


A.  To  thee,  ^O  king,  the  lion-strangler  *  (and)  boar- 
killer,  me  a  beechen  bough  has  offered — B,  Who  ?  A. 
Archinus.  B.  What  kind  of  man  1  A,  A  Cretan.  B, 
I  receive  it. 

*— *  In  lieu  of  Xiovrdyxutvt,  which  is  not  a  Greek  word,  Valckenaer 
suggested  XtSvrayx*  &di—He  should  haye  proposed  rather  XUvrayx** 
iJ  Va— -as  translated. 



*  Ye  (wild  animals)  of  Cynthus,  be  of  good  cheer  ;  ^  for 
the  bows  and  arrows  of  Echemma  the  Cretan  lie  in  Or- 
tygia  at  the  temple  of  Diana,  with  which  he  cleared  the 
great  mountain  of  you.  But  now  he  is  at  rest,  ye  goats ;  ^ 
since  the  goddess  ^  has  effected  a  truce. 


I  am,  O  Zephyritis,  a  shell,  *  the  marvel  of  sailing.* 
But  thou,  Venu5,  dost  now  possess  me,  a  Nautilus,  the 
first  oflFering  of  Selen^a ;  me,  who  used  to  sail  over  the 
sea,  if  there  was  a  breeze,  stretching  a  sail  by  my  own 
cordage ;  ^  but  if  there  was  a  calm,  I  ran  over  the  plain 
of  the  smooth  (sea),'  rowing  with  my  feet :  *  my  name 
coincides  with  the  work  of  a  vessel.*  And  I  was  stranded 
near  the  shore  of  Julius,  in  order  that  I  might  become  a 
plaything,  surveyed  all  round,  for  thee,  Arsino^ ;  and 
that  no  longer  in  me,  as  a  recess,  ^the  egg  of  the  hapless 

* — *  As  it  seems  scarcely  possible  to  understand  KwOiahc  by  itself,  it  is 
probable  the  author  wrote,  not  "KvvOiddtQ  Oaptnlre  rd  ydp  rov — ^but 
K.vv9idSe£  9iiptg,  fiarv  rov  yap — while,  to  show  of  what  kind  were  the 
wild  animals,  one  would  prefer  Xv^kcc  to  alysg  in  ',  similar  to  the  expres- 
sion in  Horace,  *'  Nee  curat  Orion  leones  Aut  timidas  agitare  lyncas." 

'  Since  Diana  was  the  goddess  of  hunting,  she  would  hardly  e£fect  a 
truce  between  the  hunter  and  hunted.  In  lieu  then  of  I  Tree,  one  would 
have  expected  Ixti — for  UiX  t)  Oibg  would  mean  "the  goddess  there," 
i.  e.  in  the  grave,  namely,  Proserpine. 

* — *  Instead  of  the  unintelligible  ^raXatrcpoc,  Bentley  proposed  vaXaire- 
pov,  **  formerly."  But  the  Nautilus  was  as  much  a  shell,  when  out  of  l^e 
water  as  in  it.  Hence  Jacobs  would  read  iraXai  rspae —  He  should  have 
suggested  irXSov  ripac,  as  translated. 

* — *  The  Greek  is  Ec  ii  yaXtivalti  XtTropi)  9e6£  oiXog — ^which  Lennep 
was  the  first  to  correct  by  reading  9sov :  while  oi^Xoc  has  continued  to 
baffle  the  attempts  of  all,  who  have  hitherto  endeavoured  to  explain  or  alter 
it ;  for  they  did  not  perceive  it  was  a  corruption  of  dXeoe,  applied  to  the 
sea  by  ^schylus,  in  Suppl.  5,  and  Pers.  1 15,  and  that  Xiirap^c,  not 
XtTrapi),  is  to  agree  'with  aX6c,  understood  in  yaXtivairj — 

• — •  From  the  reading,  Tloeaiv  'iv*  Hot*  epyv,  Blomfield  elicited  Uoiraiv 
Ifiois  T(fpytfi —  But  he  failed  to  see  likewise  XIo9<ri*  viiac  ''VPyv — ^  trans- 
lated. Jacobs  has  adopted  Hermann's  Ilo9vi  vtv,  &9t  —  But  viv  is 
scarcely  intelligible. 

' — '  They,  who  are  desirous  of  seeing  the  utter  absurdity  in  the  words, 
i>Q  vapoQ — Tiicrifrai — (Jtov,  must  turn  to  Blackwood's   Magazine  for 


Alcyon^  might  be  hatched  as  formerly — for  I  am  without 
breathJ  But  grant  thou  thy  grace  to  the  daughter  of 
Clinias ;  for  she  knows  how  to  perform  good  acts ;  and 
she  is  from  Smyrna  in  -Solia. 

Queen  of  the  Zephyr's  breezy  cape  !  to  thee 

This  polish'd  shell,  the  treasure  of  the  sea, 

Her  earliest  offspring  young  Selena  bears, 

Join*d  with  the  incense  of  her  maiden  prayers. 

Erewhile  with  motion,  power,  and  sense  endued, 

Alive  it  floated  on  the  parent  flood ; 

When,  if  the  gale  more  rudely  breathed,  it  gave 

Its  natural  sail  expanded  to  the  wave  ; 

But  while  the  billows  slept  upon  the  shore. 

And  the  tempestuous  winds  forgot  to  roar. 

Like  some  proud  gaUey,  floated  on  the  tide. 

And  busy  feet  the  want  of  oars  supplied. 

Shipwreck'd  at  last  upon  th'  lulian  strand, 

It  now,  Arsinoe,  asks  thy  favouring  hand. 

No  more  its  vows  the  plaintive  Halcyon  hail 

For  the  soft  breathings  of  a  western  gale  ; 

But  that,  O  mighty  queen,  thy  genial  power 

On  young  Selena  every  gift  may  shower. 

That  love  with  beauteous  innocence  can  share  ; 

For  these,  and  only  these,  accept  the  prayer.     J.  H.  M. 

Erst  a  mere  conch,  I  now  an  ofiering  shine — 

Selene's  first,  to  Venus  Zephyrine. 

Then,  lightly  skimming  o'er  the  azure  seas. 

My  native  sail  I  hoisted  to  the  breeze ; 

Or  plough'd,  becalm'd,  with  oary  feet  the  main ; 

And  thus  deserved  the  name  I  still  retain. 

Now  tost  by  storms  on  fair  lulls'  strand, 

A  brilliant  toy,  I  grace  Arsinoe's  hand. 

September,  1833,  p.  405,  where  Wilson  was  thft  first  to  object  to  rc'criyrai: 
but  he  did  not  discover  that  luc  -jrapog  and  dfrvovg  were  equally  incorrect. 
The  poet  probably  wrote  Mridk  fiov  kv  OaXdfiycnv  tff,  8  (rirSptv — lifil  ydj) 
dwXovQ — KXaty  TiKvoXkrup  wiov  'AXkvSvti — **  and  that  Alcyon^  may  not, 
losing  her  young,  lament  for  the  egg,  which  she  had  laid  in  my  recess— for 
I  am  sailing  no  longer ;"  by  which  Gallimachus  meant  to  say  that  the 
Alcyon6,  after  depositing  her  egg  in  the  shell  of  a  dead  Nautilus,  used  to 
lament  the  loss  of  her  young,  carried  out  to  sea  in  the  shell,  when  it  was 
put  into  motion  by  the  water. 


Nor  longer  need,  from  all  my  toils  at  rest, 
The  Halcyon  more  lament  her  rifled  nest ; 
But  for  the  offering  fitting  thanks  be  paid 
To  Clinias'  daughter,  Smyrna's  pious  maid. 

F.  Wranghaic. 

Oh  I  Zephyritis,  for  Selena's  sake, 

My  ancient  shell,  her  virgin  offering,  take. 

Venus,  thou  art  my  goddess  now ;  the  sea. 

When  the  south  winds  blew  cheerly,  wafted  me. 

Thy  Nautilus,  who  swam  before  the  gale. 

Stretching  with  cordage  all  my  own  the  saiL 

In  the  bright  calm  with  twinkling  feet  I  float. 

Rapidly  rowing  ;  hence  my  name  of  boat. 

Cast  on  lulis'  shore,  'tis  mine  to  be 

A  plaything  and  thy  toy,  Arsinoe, 

To  gaze  on  with  delight ;  for  I  am  dead. 

And  sad  Alcyone  finds  not  the  bed, 

In  which  to  lay  her  eggs,  where  once  she  laid. 

And  hatch'd  her  young.     But  let  all  thanks  be  paid 

To  Clinias'  daughter,  who  the  offering  gives 

Duteous,  and  in  ..^k)lian  Smyrna  lives. 

W.  LiSLB  Bowles. 

Once  a  mere  shell,  no  more ;  but  now  to  thee, 

O  Venus  Zephyritis,  the  first  gift 

From  Selenaea,  offered  here  am  I, 

The  Nautilus,  the  ocean's  voyager : 

Who,  when  soft  breezes  breathed,  was  wont  to  stretch 

With  mine  own  cordage  mine  own  proper  sail ; 

But  in  bright  calms  to  scud  along,  self-steer'd 

With  oary  feet,  as  well  my  name  implies. 

Till  I  was  stranded  on  the  Julian  shore ; 

A  toy  indeed — ^but  not  unprized  by  thee, 

Arsinoe— for  in  thy  temple  placed, 

Never  again,  as  heretofore,  shall  I, 

Now  lifeless,  watch  the  mournful  Halcyon, 

Brooding  in  peace  upon  the  tranquil  deep. 

Be  gracious  then  to  Clinias'  daughter ;  good 

Her  life,  who  in  -^Ek)lian  Smyrna  dwells.  Hay. 

Edwards's  selection.  399 


Achrvlis^the  Phrygian  chamber- attendant  (onCybel^), 
she,  who  often  let  flow  her  holy  ringlets  about  the 
torches — she,  who  often  gave  for  the  Gallic  *  howling  of 
Cybel^  sounds  from  her  mouth,  that  (came)  heavy  to  the 
ear,  has  placed  around  the  door  these  locks  in  honour  of 
the  mountain  goddess ;  since  she  has  stopt  the  foot  fe- 
vered by  madness. 


The  harp,  and  the  bows  and  arrows,  and  the  crooked 
nets,  are  for  Phoebus,  (the  gifts)  of  Sosis,  Phil^,  Polycra- 
tes.  The  archer  has  given  the  bow  tipped  with  horn ; 
the  minstrel  on  the  lyre,  the  shell ;  the  hunter,  the  knit- 
ted threads;  and  may  one  man  obtain  a  power  over 
quick-striking  darts;  die  female,  excellence  in  the  lyre; 
and  the  other  man,  the  choice  spoils  in  hunting. 


The  bull,  that  once  bellowed  on  the  high  grounds  of 
Mount  Orbelius,  the  wild  animal  that  formerly  made  Ma- 
cedonia a  desert,  has  the  lightning-like  Philip,  the  over- 
thrower  of  the  Dardanians,  destroyed  by  striking  the 
middle  of  its  head  with  a  hunting  pole ;  and  these  horns, 
the  defence  of  its  (once)  unrestrained  head,  has  he  put 
up  for  thee,  Hercules,  not  without  its  strong  hide. 
From  thee  as  a  root  has  he  run  up ;  nor  is  it  unseemly 
for  him  to  rival  the  ancestral  arts  of  bull-slaying. 


These  sandals  that  keep  the  feet  warm,  the  delightful 
labour  of  skilful  shoemakers,  (Has)  Bitenna  (oflfered  up) ; 
and  Philonis,  this  binder  of  the  hair,  that  loves  to  be 
plaited,  a  cap  dyed  in  the  colour  of  the  white  sea ;  and 
Anticlea,  the  fan ;  and  the  lovely  Heliodora,  the  veil  for 


\y  the  word  *' Gallic"  is  meant  the  Galli,  the  attendants  upon 


the  face,  a  work  partaking  of  the  spider's  web ;  but  she, 
who  has  a  name  called  after  her  father  Aristotle,  the  ser- 
pent with  pretty  folds,  an  ornament  of  gold  for  her  slim 
ancles  ;  all  of  one  mind  and  age,  (have  given)  presents 
to  the  heavenly  Cyth^ra-bom. 


What  mortal  has  tied  up  around  the  coping-stones 
these  spoils  for  me,  a  delight  disgracefiil  to  Mars  ?  For 
neither  broken  spears,  nor  a  helmet  without  its  crest, 
nor  a  shield  stained  with  blood  is  hung  up  ;^  but  things 
vainly  glittering,  and  not  battered  by  iron,  such  as  are 
the  spoils  not  in  a  (war)-shout,  but  in  a  dance ;  with 
which  adorn  ye  a  bridal  chamber ;  but  may  the  shrine  of 
Mars  possess  weapons  dropping  with  human  gore. 


A.  Thou,  Labyrinthus  ^  of  the  sea,  tell  me  who  offered 
thee  up,  on  findmg  thee  as  a  little  capture  on  the  white 
sea  ?  B,  Dionysius,  the  son  of  Protarchus,  has  offered 
me  up  to  the  Nymphs,  who  dwell  in  caves,  and  I  am  a 
|)resent  jfrom  the  sacred  (coast  of)  Pelorus ;  and  a  nar- 
row and  crooked  sea-strait  threw  me  up,  in  order  that 
I  might  be  a  plaything  for  the  smooth-faced  Cave- 


Bitenna  (gave)  these  sandals ;  and  Philsenis  the  purple 
cap,  that  protects  the  much-wandering  hair ;  and  the 
light-haired  Anticleia  the  fan,  that  conceals  a  not  genuine 
breeze,^  (and)  wards  off  violent  heat ;  and  Heracleia  this 
thin  concealment  of  the  face,  made  like  the  nets  of  the 
spider ;  and  she  who  bears  the  name  of  her  father  Aris- 

'  Id  lieu  of  apijpe,  in  MS.  Vat.,  Planudes  has  ai/^pe — ^which  evidently 
leads  to  dvyoTo — as  translated. 

*  By  XapvpivOog  was  meant  a  shell-fi^,  somewhat  similar  to  the 
**  winkle.*' 

'  By  p69ov — dfffia  Jacobs  tmderatands  the  artificial  breeze  produced 
by  the  fan. 


tode,  the  beautiful  folds  of  the  serpent  round  the  ancle ; 
these  splendid  presents  to  thee,  Venus,  who  presidest 
over  marriage,  have  equals  in  age  offered,  who  dwell  by 
the  sea-shore,^  at  Naucratis. 


Cythera  of  Bithynia  has,  after  making  a  vow,  offered 
up  me,  a  white-marble  representation  of  thy  form,  Venus. 
But  do  thou,  for  a  small  favour,  give  in  return  a  great 
one,  as  is  the  custom.  She  is  satisfied  with  the  agree- 
ment in  mind  of  her  husband. 


Anaxagoras  has  offered  up  me,  Priapus,  not  the  one  on 
his  feet,  but  who  is  leaning  on  the  gtound  with  both 
knees.  Philomachus  made  the  figure.  But  on  seeing 
near  me  a  beautiful  (one/  of  the  Graces,  do  not  ask  how 
I  fell  down. 


We  roses  formerly  bloomed  in  the  spring,  but  now  in 
tlie  midst  of  winter  we  lay  open  our  scarlet  buds,  smiling 
upon  thy  birth-day,  and  pleased  with  this  morning,  the 
nearest  to  the  time  of  thy  marriage-bed.  It  is  better 
to  be  seen  on  the  temples  of  Camsta  a  wife,  than  to 
wait  for  the  sun  of  spring. 

Children  of  spring,  but  now  in  wintry  snow 

We  purple  roses  for  CaUista  blow. 

Duteous  we  smile  upon  thy  natal  mom ; 

Thy  bridal  bed  to-morrow  we  adorn. 

Oh !  sweeter  far  to  bloom  our  littie  day, 

Wreath'd  in  thy  hair,  than  wait  the  sunny  May.     Bl, 

*  In  al  yvdXuv,  which  Jacobs  yainly  endearours  to  explain,  evidently 
lies  hid  alyidXwv — 

•  To  avoid  the  ellipse  of  fiiav  here,  Jncobs  would  read  ayxt  koKitjv  in- 
stead of  ayx69i  KaXrjv — 

2  D 


We  roses,  Lady,  with  flower-loving  May 

Are  wont  to  come  ;  but  now  'mid  winter's  cold 
We  love  our  purple  blossoms  to  unfold, 

And  greet  thee  well  on  this  thy  natal  day. 

For  thy  near  spousals,  too,  our  sweets  we  bring — 
Deeming  it  better  and  more  blest  to  shed 
Our  blushing  fragrance  round  thy  lovely  head. 

Than  tarry  for  the  genial  warmth  of  spring.         Hat. 

DCCLX.   WESTMINSTER,   2   BOOK,   84  EP. 


On  a  votive  morning  we  perform  these  holy  rites  to 
Jupiter,  presiding  over  marriage,  and  to  Diana,  the  mild 
(goddess)  of  the  pains  of  child-bif  th.  For  to  them  my 
brother,  while  yet  without  down  on  his  chin,  vowed  lie 
would  offer  the  first-fruits  of  the  spring  fseen)  upon  the 
cheeks  of  young  men.  And  may  ye  deities  receive  it ; 
and  forthwith  from  this  down  up  to  hoary  hairs  may 
ye  lead  Euclides. 


To  thee,  the  superintendent  of  the  shore  near  the  sea, 
I  send  these  small  cakes  of  meal,  and  gifts  of  a  slight 
sacrificial  rite.  For  to-morrow  I  shall  pass  over  the  wide 
wave  of  the  loi^an  (sea),  while  hastening  to  the  bosom 
of  my  Eidothe^.  And  do  thou  shine  propitious  to  my 
love  and  sail-mast,  O  Venus,  the  mistress  of  marriage- 
beds  and  strands. 

DCCLXin.      VTESTMINSTEB,  3  BOOK,  36  EP. 


To  thee,  the  deity  over  roads,^  has  Antiphilus  offered 
up  this  felt-covering  for  his  head,  the  symbol  of  his 
way-faring  life.  For  thou  hast  listened  to  his  prayers ; 
(and)  been  propitious  to  his  paths.     The  present  is  not 

^  By  this  was  meant  Hecat^.   Jacobs  refers  to  Orphic.  Fragm.  34. 

Edwards's  selection.  403 

much,  but  it  is  a  holy  one.  Nor  let  any  greedy  traveller 
snatch  with  his  hand  this  oflfering  of  mine.  It  is  not  safe 
to  steal  even  small  things. 


In  fortune,  mistress,  I  am  little.  But  I  say  that  (my 
gift)  peers  above  the  wealth  of  all,  inasmuch  as  it  is  from 
the  heart.  And  do  thou  receive  the  covering  of  a  carpet 
made  of  soft  and  thick  sheep's  wool,  conspicuous  ^  with 
its  bright-coloured  scarlet,  and  worsted  thread  of  a  rose- 
colour,  and  nard  for  thy  dark-haired  locks,  enclosed  in  a 
blue  glass  (bottle),  in  order  that  a  vest  may  cover  thy 
skin,  and  the  work  prove  the  manufacture,  and  a  sweet- 
smelling  exhalation  come  from  thy  ringlets. 


Who  has  filled,  with  (the  flour  of)  Ceres,  me  a  cask, 
made  for  Dionysius?  who  me,  a  receptacle  for  the 
nectar-like  wine  of  the  Adriatic  ?  What  grudging  is 
there  to  me  of  wine  ?  Or  is  there  a  scarcity  of  vessels 
fit  for  corn  ?  He  has  disgraced  both  (deities).  Bacchus 
has  been  robbed,  and  Ceres  does  not^  receive  drunken- 
ness as  a  fellow-boarder. 


I  have*  to  apple,  as  big  as  an  ostrich,*  preserved  from 
the  preceding  year,  still  beautiful  in  its  youthful  bloom, 
without  a  spot,  without  a  wrinkle,  with  the  down  on  it 
equal  to  those  recently  produced,  still  sticking  to  the 
frul-leaved  bough,  a  rare  honour  to  the  season  of  win- 

'  In  the  place  of  eidSfisvov,  which  is  not  used  passively,  Reiske  sug- 
gests fipSfuvov,  "  dropping  with — " 

'  Bnmck,  justly  objecting  to  o^,  has  edited  Msx^rai,  He  should 
have  read  addsx^rcu, 

■  Wakefield  was  the  first  to  read  fxw  for  afyw,  which  Jacobs  vainly 
endeavours  to  defend. 

*  Such  seems  to  be  the  meaning  of  arpovBiiov.  From  Galen,  quoted 
by  Brodaeus  and  Jacobs,  the  apple  called  arpovOsiov  seems  to  have  been 
a  kind  of  large-sized  quince. 



ter ;  but  for  thee,  O  queen,  such  a  fruit  bears  even  the 

cold  of  snow. 


Do  thou,  Juno,  who  rulest  over  Samos,  and  who  hast 
obtained  by  lot  the  river  Imbrasus,  receive,  O  venerable 
deity,  as  the  sacrificial  rites  on  a  birth-day,  these  sacred 
(portions)  of  calves,  which  we,  who  know  the  ordon- 
nances  of  the  blessed  (gods),  know  to  be  the  most  agree- 
able of  all  things.  Maximus,  on  making  the  libations, 
uttered  a  prayer;  and  she  (the  goddess)  has  nodded 
favourably.  Matters  are  firmly  placed ;  and  the  threads 
of  the  Fates  feel  no  envy. 


Who  has  offered  cakes  greasy  with  oil  ?  who  grapes 
to  Mars  the  city-destroyer  ?  who  the  cup-like  buds  of 
roses  ?  These  things  I  wish  a  person  would  carry  to  the 
Nymphs.  I,  the  bold-planning  Mars,  do  not  receive  on 
toy  altars  sacrifices  unstained  by  blood. 


Another  person  sends  you  birth-day  presents,  ob- 
tained from  the  hunter's  net-stakes ;  and  one  from  the 
air ;  and  another  from  the  sea ;  but  from  me  receive  a 
line  of  the  Muses,  which  remains  for  ever,  and  is  the 
mark  of  (my)  friendship  and  (your)  good  education. 

One  sends  thee  game  from  oiets  and  stakes  obtained ; 
Fowls  of  the  air,  another ;  fish  has  gain'd 
Another  from  the  sea,  to  grace  the  day 
That  marks  thy  birth ;  receive  from  me  a  lay 
Taught  by  the  Muse,  that  long  will  live  to  show 
What  thou  to  learning,  I  to  friendship  owe.        G.  B. 


From  poverty,  as  you  know,  Venus,  that  is  genuine, 
yet  honest,^  receive  tnese  gifts  from  Leonidas ;  this  small 

^  Jacobs  quotes  opportunely  from  Horace,  "  tenui  censu,  sine  crimine 


purple  grape,  and  this  ripe  salted  olive,  and  the  law- 
ful sacrifice  of  small  cakes,  and  a  libation  (of  wine), 
which  I  have  drawn  without  being  shaken,  and  figs 
sweet  as  honey.  Do  thou  then  defend  me  as  from  dis- 
ease, so  likewise  from  poverty.  And  then  thou  shalt  see 
me  sacrificing  an  ox ;  and  mayest  thou,  my  good  genius, 
hasten  to  receive  my  thanks  in  return. 


Philoxenides,  the  celebrated*  goat-driver,  after  cut- 
ting thee.  Pan,  from  a  beech,  has  placed  the  figure  with 
the  bark  on,  after  sacrificing  a  hoary  goat,  that  moimts 
the  ewes,  and  making  the  sacred  altar  drunk  with  the 
first-produced  milk;  in  return  for  which  may*  the  ewes 
in  the  folds  be  pregnant  with  two  young  ones,  after 
escaping  from  the  rough  tooth  of  the  wolf. 


The  rounded  lead,  the  marker  of  the  sides  of  the  page, 
and  the  scraper  and  splitter  of  the  reeds  with  arrow- 
like tips,  and  the  ruler  placed  at  the  top,*  and  the 
pumice-stone,  (rolled)  along  the  shore,*  the  dried  stone 
with  holes  made  in  it  by  the  sea,  has  Callimenes  ofiered 
up  to  the  Muses,  after  ceasing  from  business;  *  since 
through  old  age  his  eye  could  no  longer  see  any  thing.^ 

A.  Who  has  placed  thee.  Mercury,  without  down  on 

^  This  seems  a  very  strange  epithet  for  a  goat-driver. 

•  In  lieu  of  iaovrat,  Brunck  correctly  reads  ieoivro — 

•  Jacobs  has  failed  to  explain  what  is  meant  by  vvdrtiv  here.  Per- 
haps it  alludes  to  the  upper  part  of  the  writing-desk,  where  the  ruler  is 
generally  placed. 

^  Instead  of  irapd  ^iva,  which  he  could  not  understand,  Brunck  sug- 
gested irapaOriya.  But  as  the  use  of  the  pumice-stone  was  to  render 
smooth  the  parchment,  one  can  hardly  understand  how  it  could  be  said 
to  shaipen  any  thing. 

* — ^  Such  is  evidently  what  the  sense  requires.  But  this  would  be  in 
Greek,  ind  ov  yhpq,  xavOog  It*  ioKoirs  rt,  not  I  Tret  yrjpif  kovOoq  kfrt' 
axkirtTo,  translated  by  Jacobs,  "  since  (his)  eye  is  covered  from  above  by 
old  age." 


thy  cliin^  near  the  starting-post  (of  the  course)?  B, 
Hermogenes.  A.  Whose  son  is  he  ?  B.  Of  Daimenes.* 
A,  Of  what  country  ?  B,  Of  Antioch.  A.  Honouring 
thee  on  what  accoimt  1  B,  As  being  his  assister  in  the 
stadium.  A.  At  what  place  ?  B.  At  the  Isthmus  and 
Nemea.  A,  Did  he  run  there?  i?.  Yes;  and  (came 
in)  first.  A.  Conquering  whom  ?  B,  Nine  boys ;  and 
he  would  have  flown,  had  he  possessed  my  feet.* 



To  thee,  Priapus,  delighted  with  both  the  sunken 
rocks,  worn  down  by  the  waves  of  Nessis '  on  the  sea- 
shore, and  the  bluff  upper  rocks,  has  Paris,  the  fisher- 
man, hung  up  a  crab,  with  its  oyster-like  shell,  killed  by 
the  cleverly-catching  rod ;  the  fiesh,  when  exposed  to 
fire,  did  he  happy  place  under  his  tooth,  half-eaten  (by 
age),  but  the  offal-shell  has  he  given  to  thee.  Where- 
fore do  thou  give  him  not  many  things,  but  by  means  of 
a  line,  catching  successfully,  a  quietness  to  ms  barking 


Ye  Water-Nymphs,  for  whom  Hermocreon  has  placed 

these  ^ifts,  after  meeting  with  a  sweetly-flowing  fountain, 

all  hail ;  and  may  ye  with  lovely  feet  walk  in  this  house, 

placed  over  the  water,  filled  yourselves  with  a  pure 


Ye  Water-Nymphs,  for  whom  Hermocreon  placed 

These  gifts,  when  he  a  pleasant  stream  had  found. 

All  hail !  and  in  this  house  with  fountain  graced, 

Quaff  the  pure  draught ;  with  light  foot  tread  the  ground. 

G.  B. 

^  So  Meineke  reads  Aaifitvkiac  for  Aai/iovsiact  referring  to  Pausanias, 
Ti.  2. 

*  For  the  feet  of  Mercury  had  wings  attached  to  them. 

'  Nessis,  says  Jacobs,  was  an  island  near  Campania,  as  shown  by 
Statins  in  Sylv.  iii.  1,  150,  "  Sylvaque,  quae  fixam  pelago  Nessida  co- 

*  Jacobs  quotes  opportunely  "  latrantem  stomachum,"  in  Horace  it 
Sat.  U.  18. 

Edwards's  selection.  407 

dcclxxviil  wi^stminster,  2  book,  89  ep. 

dcclxxix.    eton  extracts,  164  ep. 
dcclxxx.   westminster,  2  book,  92  ep. 
dcclxxxi.         —  —    33  — 


Instead  of  an  ox  and  an  ojSFering  of  gold  to  Isis,  Pam- 
phylium  has  placed  her  shining  ringlets.  And  the 
goddess  is  more  pleased  with  these  than  was  Apollo 
with  the  gold,  which  Croesus  sent  from  Lydia  to  the  god, 


Lais  saw  Nature's  quick  decay. 

The  wrinkled  chee^  the  ringlet  grey. 

And  heaved  a  heartfelt  sigh — 
"  Witness  of  aU  that  makes  me  grieve, 
Venus,  this  hateful  glass  receive ; 

Your  charms  can  time  defy."         Ph.  Smyth. 


The  aged  Cinyras,  on  ceasing  to  labour,  has  offered 
up  to  the  Nymphs  these  nets  worn  away  by  the  con- 
tinued catching  (of  fish).  For  no  longer  was  he  able, 
with  a  trembling  hand,  to  cast  the  circular  bosom  of  the 
opened  net.  If  there  be  the  offering  of  a  small  present, 
this,  ye  Nymphs,  is  no  blame  (to  me) ;  since  the  whole 
life  of  Cinyras  is  this. 

To  Ocean's  Nymphs  old  Cinyras  gives  o'er 
This  useless  net,  which  he  can  cast  no  more. 
Now  sport,  ye  fish,  securely  on  the  sea, 
For  he  no  longer  threats  your  liberty.        J.  H.  M. 


After  bending  his  proud  neck  under  my  feet,  Praxiteles 
has  moulded  me  with  his  captive  hands.^  For  after  model- 

*  So  Jacobs  understands  XtfiSiaiQ,  But  such  could  hardly  be  its 
meaning.    Perhaps  the  poet  -wrote  AaiicikktuQ — 


Kng  in  copper  me,  who  am  Love  itself,  that  was  hidden^ 
within  (him),  he  gave  it  as  the  honoured  sj^bol  of 
friendship  to  Phryn^.  And  she  carried  it  again  to 
Love.  For  it  is  just  that  those  in  love  bring  Love  him- 
self as  a  gift  to  Love.  ' 

To  Persuasion  and  the  Paphian  goddess,  has  Eury- 
nomas  the  neatherd,  the  bridegroom  of  Hermophil^,  with 
a  chaplet  of  rose-buds  offered  up  a  cheese  and  honey- 
combs. And  do  ye  receive  the  cheese  in  return  for  her^ 
and  the  honey  for  me. 

Porphjrris  of  Cnidus  has  for  thyself,  Dionysus,  placed 
on  high  before  thy  chapel  these  ornaments  of  her  beauty 
and  madness,  namely,  the  chaplets  on  her  head,  and  the 
spear  with  a  double  pine-cone,  and  the  ancle-band,  with 
which  she  acted  the  Bacchant  freely,  when,  after  imiting 
to  her  bosom  the  fawn-skin,  decked  with  ivy,  she  fre- 
quented the  orgies  of  Dionysus. 

To  the  Paphian  goddess  her  garland,  to  Pallas  her 
ringlets,  (ana)  to  Artemis  her  girdle,  has  Callirrho^ 
offered  up.  For  she  has  found  the  suitor  she  wished, 
and  has  reached  a  prudent  period  of  youth,  and  borne 
a  male  race  of  children. 

Venus'!  this  chaplet  take !  CaUirrhoe  pra/d. 

Thy  youth  I  loved,  thy  power  hath  made  h\m  mine, 
These  locks  to  thee  I  vow,  Athenian  maid ; 

By  thee  I  holy  kept  my  virgin  shrine. 
To  Artemis  my  zone  ;  a  mother's  joy 
She  gave  me  to  possess — ^my  beauteous  boy.     J.  H.  M. 

Tour  husband  Anchises,  for  whose  sake  you  did, 
Venus,  often  run  formerly  to  the  shores  of  Ida,*  has  now 

^  As  Mount  Ida  was  at  a  distance  from  the  sea-shore,  one  would  pre- 
fer 'iXiaicrjv  to  *lSaifiv — 

Edwards's  selection.  409 

with  difficulty  found  a  black  hair  to  cut  off  from  his  head, 
and  has  offered  to  you  the  relic  of  his  former  youth. 
But  do  you,  goddess,  for  you  can,  either  make  me 
yoxmg,  or  receive  my  hoary  age,  as  if  it  were  youth. 

Oft  hast  thou  left  the  realms  of  air 

To  dwell  with  me  on  Ida's  shore ; 

But  now  gay  youth  is  mine  no  more, 
And  age  has  mark'd  my  brows  with  care. 

Oh  I  Queen  of  Love,  my  youth  restore, 
Or  take  my  offering  of  gray  hair.  J.  H.  M. 


Stratonicus,  the  ploughman,  has,  in  return  for  kind- 
ness, offered  up  to  thee.  Pan,  who  dwellest  on  the  crests 
of  hills,  these  unsown  holy  enclosures ;  and  he  said — 
'*  Feed  with  delight  thy  herds,  and  look  upon  thy  ground, 
never  as  yet  cut  down  by  iron.  Thou  wilt  find  a  proper 
dwelling-place ;  for  here  will  Echo,  pleased  with  thee, 
consimmiate  even  a  marriage." 


To  thee  the  ten-thousand  tearings  of  garlands,  de- 
prived of  leaves — to  thee  the  broken  cups  of  drunkenness 
disturbed  in  its  mind — to  thee  the  ringlets  bedewed  with 
myrrh, — all  these  lie  in  the  dust  as  spoils  for  thee,  Lais, 
from  the  love-struck  Anaxagoras.  For  at  thy  threshold 
the  unhappy  man,  after  passing  frequently  the  whole 
night  with  companions  in  the  prime  of  youA,  has  never 
extorted  a  word,  or  a  pleasant  promise,  or  the  saucy 
language  of  honey-dropping  hope.  Alas !  alas !  wasted 
in  limbs^  he  has  left  these  symbols  of  revellings,  and 
blames  the  beauty  of  the  damsel  not  to  be  turned. 

To  thee  the  relics  of  a  thousand  flowers 
Tom  from  the  chaplet,  twined  in  gayer  hours — 
To  thee  the  goblet,  carved  with  skill  divine, 
Erewhile  that  foam'd  with  soul-subduing  wine — 
The  locks  now  scatter'd  on  the  dusty  ground, 
Once  breathing  odours  and  with  garlands  crown'd — 


Outcasts  of  pleasure  and  of  hope  bereft, 

Lais  !  to  thee  thy  Corydon  has  left. 

Oft  on  thy  threshold  stretch'd  at  close  of  day, 

He  wept  and  sigh'd  the  cheerless  night  away  5 

Nor  dared  invoke  thy  name,  nor  dared  aspire 

To  melt  thy  bosom  with  his  amorous  fire  ; 

Or  plead  a  gracious  respite  to  his  pain, 

Or  speak  the  language  of  a  happier  swain. 

Alas  !  alas  !  now  cold  and  senseless  grown, 

These  last  sad  offerings  make  his  sorrows  known, 

And  dare  upbraid  those  scornful  charms  that  gave 

His  youth  unpitied  to  the  cheerless  grave.    J.  H.  M. 


For  thee,  goat-footed  Pan,  has  Teucer  the  Arabian 
put  upon  a  pine  this  hide  of  a  lion,  armed  with  the  five- 
pointed  claws  of  its  feet,  with  its  jaws  widely-opened, 
that  he  drew  off  from  its  head  stained  with  blood,  and 
likewise  his  rustic  hunting  spear;  the  marks  of  its 
teeth  remain  upon  the  spear,  half-eaten,  on  which  the 
wild  beast  emptied  out  its  anger  with  a  growl ;  and  the 
Water-Nymphs  together  with  those  who  haunt  tie  woods, 
who  have  made  a  dance ;  since  it  had  oftentimes  thrown 
them  into  a  fright.^ 


There  hang  my  lyre.     This  aged  hand  no  more 
Shall  wake  the  strings  to  rapture  known  before. 
Farewell,  ye  chords  !  Ye  verse-inspiring  powers, 
Accept  the  solace  of  my  former  hours ! 
Be  gone  to  youths,  ye  instruments  of  song  ! 
For  crutches  only  to  the  old  belong.  Bl. 


I,  Daphnis  the  reed-player,  labouring  under  a  trem- 
bling old  age,  have  offered  up  to  Pan,  fond  of  a  country- 
life,  this  shepherd's  crook  belonging  to  a  hand  unable  to 

*  This  idea  Jacobs  conceives  was  suggested  by  ApoUon.  Rh.  ii.  821. 


work,  and  weighed  down,  after  having  ceased  in  old  age 
from  the  labours  of  a  shepherd.  ^  For  still  *  do  I  play  on 
the  reed ;  still  does  a  voice  without  trembling  dwell  in 
a  trembling  body.  But  let  no  goatherd  tell  to  the 
destructive  wolves  in  the  moxintains  the  weakness  of 
my  old  age. 

Dapbnis  the  piper,  trembling  'neath  the  load 

Of  years,  this  crook,  his  feeble  hand  no  more  • 

Had  force  to  wield,  to  Pan,  the  shepherd's  god. 

Here  offers  up  ;  his  shepherd  labours  o'er. 
His  pipe  he  still  can  sweetly  sound ;  and  still 

Strong  is  his  voice,  although  his  body's  weak ; 
But  look  ye,  swains,  yon  wolves  upon  the  hill 

Ne'er  of  my  feebleness  o'^rhear  ye  speak.        G.  S* 

I  am  offering  up  to  Pan  and  the  Nymphs  of  the  oak- 
woods,  my  dog,  my  wallet,  and  my  staff  with  its  crook- 
ed tooth.  But  the  dog,  still  alive,  I  will  take  back  to 
my  cabin,  and  have  him  as  a  friend  to  share  in  my  dry 


To  Bacchus  with  ivy-bound  hair  ^  Lenagoras,  a  person 
working  at  vines,  has  offered  up  a  Satyr,  shaken  by  wine. 
Upon  him,  heavy  in  his  head,  you  would  say  that  the 
dress  made  of  a  skin,  the  hair,  the  ivy,  (and)  the  grape 
are  all  drunk  ;  they  are  all  in  a  relaxed  state  together ; 
and  art  has  by  voiceless  forms  imitated  nature,  me  ma- 
terial not  enduring  to  say  nay. 


The  old  Amyntichus  bound  a  net  with  lead  at  its  ex- 
tremity round  the  trident  (of  Neptune),  after  ceasing 
from  his  toils  in  the  sea,  and  said  to  the  deity,  while 
shedding  tears  from  his  eye-lids,  like  *  the  salt  swell  of  the 

* — *  To  avoid  the  incongruity  of  an  old  reed-player  thus  speaking  of 
himself,  one  would  have  expected  oifKiri  for  etVIri  in  both  places. 

'  Brunck  has  more  correctly  KurtroKdfi^  to  agree  wiUi  Bdicxv  than 
Jacobs  KitTtTOKSfiav  to  agree  with  ^drvpov, 

*  As  the  address  was  made  to  Neptune  alone,  and  not  to  the  sea  like- 
"wise,  it  is  evident  the  author  wrote  not  icaiy  but  i;a9* — as  translated. 


sea — "  Thou  knowest,  O  blessed  (power),  that  I  am  past 
work.  But  limb-wasting  poverty,  from  which  there  is  no 
release,  is  young  even  at  the  threshold  ^  of  wretched  old 
age.  Nourish  still  the  gasping  old  man,  but  from  the 
land,  as  thou  choosest,  O  ruler  over  the  land^  and  sea." 


.  The  wine-tippler  Xenophon  has  offered  up  an  empty 
cask,  O  Bacchus !  Keceive  it  kindly.  For  he  has  nothing 

Bacchus,  from  tippling  Xenophon 
Accept  his  all,  an  empty  tun.         EL  W. 


O  Daphnis,  the  lover  of  women,  offer  up  to  beloved 
Pan  thy  bored  reeds,  this  sheep-skin,  and  crook.  Re- 
ceive, 0  Pan!  the  gifts  of  Daphnis.  For  thou  lovest 
equaUy  with  him  a  tune,  and  art  unfortimate  in  love. 


lynx,  the  daughter  of  Nico,  she,  who  knows  how  to 
draw  a  man  from  over  the  sea,  and  young  persons  from 
marriage-beds,  being  beautifully  variegated  with  gold 
and  engraved  out  of  a  transparent  amethyst,  is  laid  up  a 
loved  possession,  Venus,  for  thee,  and  tied  in  the  mid- 
dle by  a  soft  hair  of  the  scarlet-dyed  (wool  of)  a  lamb, 
(being)  the  offering  of  a  sorceress  of  Larissa. 


Timaret^  before  her  marriage  has  offered  up  to  Diana 
her  tambourine,  and  her  valued  ball,  and  her  cap,  the 
defender  of  her  locks,  and  her  dolls,  O  Limnatis,^  as  is 

^  The  common  reading  is  caicov  Ini  yripaoc  17/iiv :  where  the  genitive 
is  without  regimen.  The  author  wrote,  no  doubt — yrjpaoQ  o^^^,  remem- 
bering the  expression  in  IX.  O.  487,  which  has  been  adopted  by  Herodo- 
tus, iii.  14 ;  Plato,  Rep.  i.  p.  328,  F. ;  Pseudo-Plato  in  Axiodius,  §  10 ; 
and  by  Hyperides,  according  to  Jul.  Pollux  ii.  1 5. 

'  Neptune  is  here  called  "  the  ruler  over  the  land  "  with  reference  to 
his  title  'EvvoaiyaioQt ."  earth-shaker." 

*  Diana  was  so  called'  from  a  lake  near  Trcezene»  as  remarked  by 
Pierson  on  Moeris,  p.  235. 

Edwards's  selection.  413 

fitting  for  a  virgin  to  a  virgin,  and  her  dolls'  dresses. 
And  do  thou,  daughter  of  Latona,  place  thy  hand  over 
the  girl  Timaret^,  and  preserve  holUy  her  who  is  holy. 

Our  ^  Pan  has  offered  up  to  thee,  Euius  (Bacchus),  his 
crook  and  fawn-skin  (dress),  after  leaving  thy  dance, 
through  the  Paphian  (goddess) ;  for  he  is  in  love  with 
Echo,  and  is  wandering  about.  But  do  thou,  Bacchus, 
be  propitious  to  him,  who  is  labouring  under  ^  a  common 


Rustic  neat-herds  living  in  the  mountains  have  cut  up 
this  beechen  bough,  bent  with  old  age,  and,  after  polish- 
ing it,  have  placed  it  in  the  road  as  a  pleasant  pastime  for 
Pan,  the  defender  of  young  and  beautiftd  neat-herds. 

This  shield,  a  glory  to  Jupiter,  has  been  regretting  for  a 
long  while  *  the  new  youthfulness  of  Cydias,  a  man  much 
to  be  envied ;  through  it  first  did  he  extend  his  left  arm, 
when  violent  war  against  the  Galatian  was  at  its  height. 


Say  thou,  who  showest  the  books*  that  are  by  the 
plane-trees,  that  this  sacred  grove  has  been  set  up  for 
the  Muses ;  and  that  we  are  guarding  it ;  and  if  a  true 
lover  of  us  comes  here,  we  will  dress  him  with  this  ivy.® 


^O  Ehea,  my  mother,  the  feeder  of  Phrygian  lions 

*  The  expression  17/ilrcpoc  Ildv  seems  rather  strange  here.  Perhaps 
the  author  -wrote — viipiS',  ifttiv*  8r*  Ipwc.  TlStv — "  when  love  had  mad- 
dened him — "  Compare  Epifp:.  Inc.  619,  ^  Kai  (rrjv  KvTrpic  ififivt  ^piva, 

*  The  sense  evidently  requires  ifi<l»iirovovvTi  in  lieu  of  dn<lnBirovTi, 

*  This  alludes,  says  Jacobs,  to  Bacchus  being  in  love  with  Ariadne. 

*  Instead  of  H  fiaXa  ^i),  the  sense  requires,  as  above,  'Hv  fidXa  di^v — 
'  This  Epig.  is  supposed,  says  Jacobs,  to  be  spoken  by  the  Muses,  placed 

over  the  entrance  to  a  library,  round  which  plane-trees  were  planted. 

*  The  ivy  was,  says  Horace,  "  doctarum — praemia  frontium." 

'— ^  In  lieu  of  Tairi — j,  Hermann  on  Orphica,  p.  766,  acutely  sug- 


through  ^  the  mountain  Dindymus,  not  untrodden  by  the 
Mystae,  to  thee  has  the  emasculated  Alexis  offered  up 
the  excitements  to  his  madness,  after  ceasing  firom  the 
paroxysm,  when  brass  is  beaten,  and  from  his  sharp-toned 
cymbals,  and  the  roar  of  the  hoarse-sounding  tubes,  ^  for 
which  the  calf  has  bent  its  horn  awry,^  and  from  the  sound- 
ing drums,  and  the  swords  made  red  by  blood,  and  the 
stained  hair,  which  he  shook  formerly.  Be  propitious, 
O  mistress,  and  cause  him  who  was  mad  in  his  youth  to 
cease  when  old  from  his  previous  wild  conduct. 


The  poor  Alcimenes,  after  tasting  the  benefit  of  a  sum- 
mer favourable  to  the  production  of  fruit  in  his  little 
garden,  did,  when  bringing  a  dried  fig  and  an  apple  and 
water  in  honour  of  Pan,  say — "  O  thou,  the  dispenser  of 
good  things  to  my  life,  receive  some  of  these  things  from 
(my)  garden,  others  from  your  own  rock ;  and  grant  in 
return  more  than  thou  hast  received." 

To  Pan,  the  guardian  of  my  narrow  soil, 

Who  gave  my  fruits  to  grow,  and  blest  my  toil, 

Pure  water  and  a  votive  fig  I  bear, 

A  scant  oblation  from  the  teeming  year. 

The  fruit  ambrosial  in  thy  garden  blush'd, 

And  from  thy  rock  the  living  water  gush*d. 

Receive  the  tribute  from  my  niggard  um. 

Nor  with  thy  bounty  weigh  my  poor  return.     Bl. 

gested  *'Ptiri — &v — but  he  did  not  see  that,  although  a  country  might  be 
called  a  feeder  of  lions,  as  in  Horace,  **  Jubte  tellus — leonum — nutrix." 
yet  a  deity  could  scarcely  be  so ;  and  hence  the  poet  probably  wrote, 
oTpewrtipa — **  the  turner,"  for  Rhea  was  represented  as  driving  lions  in 
her  car,  as  shown  by  Soph,  in  Philoct.  401. 

* — *  In  lieu  of  oUc  ft6<Txov  Xo^bv  iicaft^e  Kkpact  which  Jacobs  vainly 
attempts  to  explain,  the  author  doubtless  wrote  oIq  fi6ffxo£  Xo^bv  cca/uif/f 
Kipas — 



Sorrows  for  the  dead,  Pericles,  are  full  of  groans,  and 
no  one,  who  bears  them  in  remembrance,  will  be  delight- 
ed with  feastings  or  drinking.  ^  For  of  such  kind  of  per- 
sons ^  has  the  wave  of  the  much-roaring  sea  overwhelmed, 
and  we  have  our  lungs  swollen  with  sorrow.  But 
for  ills  not  to  be  cured  have  the  gods,  my  friend,  given 
a  remedy  in  a  strong  endurance.  ^  One  person  has  this 
at  one  time,  another  at  another.^  Now  they  are  turned 
against  us,  and  we  moan  for  a  blood-producing  sore ; 
and  again  thejr  will  pass  on  to  others.  But  do  ye  endure 
them  very  quickly,^  driving  away  a  womanly  grief. 

*  While  lamenting  the  husband  of  his  sister,  who  had 
been  lost  at  sea,  and  had  not  obtained  the  customary 

^ — '  So  roiovQ  has  been  translated  according  to  the  language.  But  the 
word  is  probably  corrupt. 

' — *  Such  is  itie  literal  version  of  ihe  Greek — dXXorc  S*  ak\o£  ix^i  rSSe 
— where  rdSt,  says  Jacobs,  would  properly  belong  to  i^dpftaKov,  the  noun 
immediately  preceding,  whereas  the  sense  shows  it  should  be  referred  to 
the  more  dutant  Kvfia,  But  this  the  language  would  not  permit.  Per- 
haps the  poet  wrote  dXXorc  ^  dWa  rvxfie  oord — *'  At  one  time  some  things 
of  Fortune  aVe  given,  at  another  others ; "  or  aXXot*  ix^i  t6S\  8  vvv — 

'  In  lieu  of  iWd  raYivra  rkfiTB,  which  is  unintelligible,  one  would 
have  expected — dXX'  drvxec  rt  rXriTif  "but  endure  something  un- 
fortunate— '* 

*-^*  The  words  between  the  numerals  are  the  translation  of  the  passage 


rites  of  sepulture,  Archilochus,  says  he,  would  have 
home  the  event  with  greater  moderation/  if  Hephaestus 
(fire)  had  heen  rolled  in  pure  ^  vestments  around  the 
head  and  graceful  limbs  of  him  (the  husband). 

For  neither  by  weeping  shall  I  medicine  bring,  nor 
shall  I  make  the  evil  worse  by  attending  to  pleasures 
and  feastings. 

Loud  are  our  griefs,  my  friend,  and  vain  is  he 

Who  steeps  the  sense  in  mirth  and  revelry. 

O'er  those  we  mourn  the  hoarse  resounding  wave 

Has  closed,  and  whelm'd  them  in  their  ocean  grave. 

Deep  sorrow  swells  each  breast.    But  Heaven  bestows 

One  healing  med'cine  for  severest  woes — 

Resolved  endurance.     For  affliction  pours 

To  all  by  turns ;  to-day  the  cup  is  ours. 

Bear  bravely  then  the  common  trial  sent, 

And  cast  away  your  womanish  lament. 

Ah  !  had  it  been  the  will  of  Heaven  to  save 
His  honoured  reUques  .from  a  nameless  grave ! 
Had  we  but  seen  th'  accustomed  flames  aspire,  . 
And  wrap  his  corse  in  purifying  fire  ! 

Yet  what  avails  it  to  lament  the  dead  ? 
Say,  will  it  profit  aught  to  shroud  our  head, 
And  wear  away  in  grief  the  fleeting  hours, 
Bather  than  'mid  bright  nymphs  in  rosy  bowers  ? 

J.  H.  M. 

II.    THE  SAME. 

Some  one  of  the  Saians  ^  glories  in  the  shield,  which  I 
left,  a  weapon  not  to  be  mocked-at,'  unwillingly  near  a 

in  Plutarcli,  T.  ii.  p.  23,  B.,  where  a  fragment  of  Archilochus  has  been 
preserved,  which  Jacobs,  followed  by  Merrivale,  has  united  to  Uie  preced- 
ing and  following  one,  found  in  the  same  treatise  of  Plutarch,  p.  33,  B. 

^  The  vestments  of  fire  are  called  **  pure,"  from  the  purifying  power 
which  that  element  is  known  to  possess. 

'  The  Saians,  according  to  Strabo,  were  the  first  setUers  in  Samothrace. 

'  Such  is  the  literal  meaning  of  d/nafttirov,    Enstathius,  on  Dionys. 


thicket,  ^  and  I  escaped  myself  the  end  of  death.  Let 
that  shield  perish;^  hereafter  1  will  possess  not  a  worse 

The  foeman  glories  in  my  shield ; 

I  left  it  in  the  battle-field  ; 

I  threw  it  down  beside  the  wood, 

Unscathed  by  scars,  unstain'd  by  blood  ; 

And  let  him  glory,  since  from  death 

Escaped,  I  keep  my  forfeit  breath. 

I  soon  may  find,  at  little  cost. 

As  good  a  shield  as  that  Fve  lost.     J.  H.  M. 


Many  bows  are  not^  stretched,  nor  frequent  slings 
(hurled),  when  war  brings  together  the  combat  in  the 
plain  ;  but  of  swords  there  will  be  the  much-ffroan-pro- 
ducing  work ;  for  in  this  kind  of  fight  are  skilled  those 
lords  of  Euboea,  renowned  for  the  spear. 

Bows  will  not  avail  thee. 
Darts  and  slings  wiU  fail  thee. 
When  Mars  tumultuous  rages 
On  wide-embattled  land  ; 
Then  with  faulchions  clashing. 
Eyes  with  fury  flashing, 
Man  with  man  engages 
In  combat  hand  to  hand. 
But  most  Euboea's  chiefs  are  known, 
Marshall'd  hosts  of  spearmen  leading 
To  conflict,  whence  is  no  receding, 
To  make  this — ^war's  best  art — their  own.  J.  H.  M. 

Perieg.  533,  explains  it  by  axpavTov,  "unsullied,"  whom  Merrivale has 
followed.  But  as  ivroQ  is  not  found  elsewhere  in  the  singular  to  signify 
"  a  weapon  " — ^perhaps  the  poet  wrote  'Evre'  dftwfitiroc — similar  to  ow* 
ZvXiitv  ax^^^^  Uutfirirbc  in  ^schyl.  S.  Th.  490. 

* — *  Brunck  and  Jacobs  have  adopted  the  reading  furnished  by  Sextus 
Empiric.  Pyrrhon.  Hypot.  iii.  24,  p.  181 .  But  as  Aristophanes  in  Eip. 
1301,  has  ^vxrjv  B*  iU^duKra — Muretus,  in  Var.  Lect.  ix.  2,  proposed  to 
read  ^vx^jv  ^*  kK^ffduura  (ftvytiiV  a\\*  aairiQ  Utivri — Instead  however  of 
sKtivri — one  would  prefer  icii  vvv — and  in  lieu  of  Qav&rov  rlXoc,  ^t* 
hsLps  Oavdrov  PkXoc — although  Oavdrov  rtXevrdv  is  foimd  in  Euripides, 
Med.  152. 

*  The  sense  seems  to  require  OtJr*  li — oirs — ^not  Ow  rot — oi^4— 
2  E 



But  come,  walk  with  the  flask  through  the  benches  of 
the  swift  ship,  and  tear  away  the  lids  from  hollow* 
kegs,  and  take  off  the  red  wine  to  the  dregs  ;^  for  we 
shall  not  be  able  to  drink  water  in  this  act  of  guarding. 

Come  then,  my  friend,  and  seize  the  flask, 

And  while  the  deck  around  us  rolls^ 
Dash  we  the  cover  from  the  cask, 

And  crown  with  wine  our  flowing  bowls. 
While  the  deep  hold  is  tempest-tost, 

We'U  strain  bright  nectar  from  the  lees  ; 
For  though  our  freedom  here  be  lost. 

We  drink  no  water  on  the  seas.  J.  H.  M. 

V.  THE  SAME.     • 

I  like  not  a  big  general,  nor  one  who  takes  long  strides, 
nor  who  is  proud  of  his  bushy  hair,  nor  who  is  shaved 
close ;  but  for  me  let  him  be  of  small  size,  and  slightly 
bow-legged  to  look  at,  (and)  walking  firmly  on  his  feet, 
(and)  full  of  heart,  and  close  in  his  thoughts. 

Boast  me  not  your  valiant  captain, 

Strutting  fierce  with  measured  pride, 
Glorying  in  his  well-trimm'd  beard,  and 

Wavy  ringlets'  cluster'd  pride. 
Mine  be  he,  who's  short  of  stature, 

Firm  of  foot  and  bended  knee ; 
Heart  of  oak  in  limb  and  feature, 

And  of  courage  bold  and  free.     J.  H.  M. 


I  care  not  for  Gyges  with  his  much  gold;  nor  has 
envy  seized  me  at  all;  nor  do  I  think  much  of  the  acts 
of  the  gods ;  nor  have  I  love  for  a  great  empire ;  for 
they  are  far  from  my  views. 

*  In  lieu  of  icoikwv  one  would  have  expected  v\ii<av,  "  full " — For  a 
hollow  cask  would  be  empty. 

'  So  Jacobs  renders  uTrb  rpvyoff— But  that  seems  at  variance  with  the 
language.  The  sense  is  rather  "  apart  from  the  dregs,**  as  rendered  by 


For  Gyges'  wealth  let  others  care, 

Gold  is  nothing  to  me  ; 
Envy  of  another's  share 

Never  shall  undo  me. 
Nothing  that  the  gods  decree, 

Moves  my  special  wonder  ; 
As  for  boastful  tyranny — 

We're  too  far  asunder.  J.  H.  M. 


The  mind^  O  Glaucus,  son  of  Leptines,  becomes  such 
to  mortal  men,  as  Zeus  leads  it  from  day  to  day. 

The  mind  of  man  is  such  as  Jove 

Ordains  by  his  immortal  will ; 
Who  moulds  it  in  his  courts  above. 

His  heavenly  purpose  to  fulfil.     J.  H.  M. 


Look  you,  Glaucus,  for  the  deep  sea  is  disturbed  by 
waves,  and  a  cloud  staiids  *  erect  in  a  circle  around  the 
tops,^  a  sign  of  a  wintry  storm,  and  fear  lays  hold  (of  us) 
from  its  unexpectedness. 

Behold,  my  Glaucus !  how  the  deep 

Heaves,  while  the  sweeping  billows  howl, 

And  round  the  promontory  steep 

The  big  black  clouds  portentous  scowl. 

With  thunder  fraught  and  lightning's  glare, 

While  Terror  rules,  and  wild  Despair.      J.  H.  M. 

' — *  Such  is  the  liteTal  version  of  Sifi^l  d'  axpa  yvpibv  6p6bv — where 
Bnmck  ingeniously  conjectured  dp^vhv,  **  dark  ** — obtained,  it  would 
seem,  from  Bprov  in  Heraclides,  Allegor.  Homer,  §  4.  But  as  6p66v  is 
acknowledged  by  Theopbrastus,  Plutarch,  and  Schol.  on  Hermogenes, 
quoted  by  Jacobs  and  Gaisford,  perhaps  the  poet  wrote  aOpdov — "collected 
into  a  mass  :**  while  in  aKpa  yvpfuov,  the  reading  in  Plutarch,  lies  hid 
&KpoKfpavvi* — the  name  of  a  lofty  mountain,  around  -which  the  lightnings 
play ;  for  "  feriunt  summosfulminamontes,"  as  Horace  says ;  who  has  intro- 
duced the  very  Greek  "word,  4icpoic€pavvia,  into  his  Latin  verse — "  Infames 
scopulos,  Acroceraunia."  Now  that  a  mountain  was  mentioned  here  is 
plain  from  the  words  of  Theophrastus,  while  quoting  this  passage — idv 
ivi  Kopv^fji  opovs  vk^oQ  6pObv  ar-jt  xn-uGiva  arifiaivH, 

2  E  2 


IX.    THE  SAME. 

Place  all  things  in  the  hands  of  the  gods.  Often  after 
ills  they  cause  men  to  stand  erect,  who  have  been  lying 
on  the  dark*  earth;  and  often  do  they  overturn  even 
those,  who  have  been  walking  verv  firmly,  and^  throw 
them  on  their  backs.  Then  many  ills  arise,  and  'of  life 
it  is  necessary  that  a  person  does  not  wander,'  and  (is) 
carried  aside  in  mind. 

Leave  the  gods  to  order  all  things ; 

Often  from  the  gulf  of  woe 
They  exalt  the  poor  man,  grovling 

In  the  gloomy  shades  below. 
Often  turn  again  and  prostrate 

Lay  in  dust  the  loftiest  head, 
Dooming  him  through  life  to  wander, 

Beft  of  sense  and  wanting  bread.     J.  H.  M. 

X.    THE  SAME 

Of  things  there  is  not  one  unexpected,  nor  to  be 
forsworn,  nor  to  be  wondered  at ;  since  Zeus,  the 
father  of  the  Olympian  (gods),  has  out  of  the  mid-day 
brought  night,  and  concealed  the  light  of  the  shining 
sun;  and  a  moist*  fear  has  come  upon  men.  ^Frorn 
hence  all  things  arise,  not  to  be  disbelieved,  and  to  be 
expected*  by  man ;  nor  let  any  one  of  you  wonder  at 
beholding,  even  if  wild  beasts  exchange  with  dolphins 

*  This  mention  of  the  "  dark  "  earth  seems  very  strange  here.  For 
the  question  is  not  about  the  dead,  i>ut  the  living.  Hence  the  poet  pro- 
bably wrote,  6p6ov<T*  iv  yaX^vy,  **  in  a  calm,**  not  dpOovaiv  fuKaivy — 

*  The  sense  and  syntax  require  Xvirriovct  not  ^wriovc :  for  the  words 
cat  fAoK*  ti  PtpfjKSrac  are  to  be  referred  to  dvarpkirovtri,  not  to  kKIvovci. 

'— *^  Such  is  the  literal  version  of  the  unintelligible  Kai  piov  xp^  ^^ 
vXavfrai  Kai  voov  wapyopoc : — where  Abresch  suggested — XPVMV  'rXa- 
v^rot— referring  to  Suidas.  Xprj/ir^'  xpeia,  airdvig :  which  gives  an  all- 
sufficient  sense — **  and  a  person  wanders  from  the  want  of  a  living — '*J 

*  Instead  of  Xvypbv,  which  destroys  the  metre,  Valckenaer  suggested 
vyphv — 

* — *  Such  is  the  literal  version  of  the  Greek,  *E«  Sk  rov  oijK  &Tt<rra 
fravra  KaTriiKvra  ylverai.  Liebel  would  read  *E«  dk  rov  Kai  xurrh — and 
he  should  have  read  likewise,  *Ek  Sk  Oeov — where  Otov  is  a  monosyllable. 


their  pasture  in  the  sea,  or  if  the  booming  waves  becoiipie 
inore  agreeable  than  the  continent  to  them  (the  dolphins); 
^  and  a  mountain  is  pleasant  to  them.^ 
Never  man  again  may  swear 

Things  stiU  shall  be,  as  erst  they  were : 
Never  more  in  wonder  stare, 

Since  Jove,  th*  Olympiiin  thunderer, 
Bade  the  sun's  meridian  splendoiir 

Hide  in  shades  of  thickest  night ; 
While  th'  affrighted  nations  started, 

Trembling  at  the  fearful  sight. 
Who  shall  dare  to  doubt  hereafter, 

Whatsoever  man  may  say  ? 
Who  refuse  with  stupid  laughter. 

Credence  to  the  wildest  lay  ? 
Though  for  pasture  dolphins  ranging. 

Leap  the  hills  and  scour  the  wood. 
And  fierce  wolves,  their  nature  changing, 

I^ive  beneath  th'  astonish'd  flood.     J.  H.  M. 

*No  one,  when  dead,  although  previously'  a  man  of 
might,  becomes  an  object  of  reverence  with  citizens.^ 
We  who  are  alive,  pursue  rather  the  favour  of  the  living ; 
but  to  the  dead  man  himself*  the  worst  things  occur. 
Nor*  is  it  well  to  speak  in  a  galling  manner  over  men 
who  are  dead  ? 

Death  seals  the  fountains  of  reward  and  fame ; 
Man  dies,  and  leaves  no  guardian  of  his  name. 

* — *  In  the  letters  Toi<n  S*  ridii  ^v  opoc,  at  variance  with  metre  and 
^tax,  for  ijv  should  be  y — to  answer  to  AvTafAfiyj/tavTai  and  ylvijrai, 
lie  hid  the  words  roic  d*  ady  dkvSp'  rfd*  Spoff,  "  and  to  them  trees  and 
a  hill  are  pleasing : "  where  dkvSpa  is  explained  by  Horace,  "  Piscium  et 
summa  genus  hsesit  ulmo— Omne  quum  Proteus  pecus  egit  altos  Visere 

' — *  The  words  between  the  numerals  are  generally  divided  into  two 
fragments,  which  Merrivale  has  united,  and  translated  as  if  he  wished  to 
read  Ou^  dp\  for  Oit  yAp,  in  '. 

*  The  antithesis  evidently  requires  Kai  irpiv,  as  translated,  in  Ueu  of  icai 
wtp —  The  poet  probably  alluded  to  the  fate  of  Ajax. 

*  As  "himself"  is  here  without  meaning,  p^i-^iot^  i 
KdKiora  S*  ahrif  rtf,  but  KUKiara  d*  alti  rif — 


Applause  awaits  us  only  while  we  live, 

While  we  can  honour  take  and  honour  give. 

Yet  it  were  base  in  man,  of  woman  bom, 

To  mock  the  naked  ghost  with  jests  or  scorn.  J.  H.  M. 


It  stands,  like  the  back-bone  of  an  ass,  covered  with 
a  wild  wood. 

Like  the  sharp  back-bone  of  an  ass  it  stood, 

That  rugged  isle,*  o'ergrown  with  shaggy  wood, 

No  verdant  grot ;  no  kwn  for  poet's  dream 

Is  there,  like  those  by  Siris'  pleasant  stream.  J.  H.  M. 

^  I,  being  a  little  one  without  a  voice,^  say  this — should 
a  person  ask — after  I  have  put  down  an  untired  voice  at 
(my)  feet,  **  Aristo,  (the  wife)  of  Hermocleidas,  (who 
was  the  son)  of  Saoniadas,  has  offered  me  up  to  the 
daughter  of  Latona  (worshipped)  at  iEthiopium,'  thy 
servant,  0  mistress  of  women ;  for  whom  do  thou,  pleased 
and  with  forethought,  render  famous  our  family." 

Does  any  ask  ?     I  answer  from  the  dead ; 

A  voice  that  lives  is  graven  o'er  my  head 

To  dark-eyed  Dian,  ere  my  days  begun, 

Aristo  vow'd  me,  wife  of  Saon's  son. 

Then  hear  thy  priestess,  hear,  O  virgin  power, 

And  thy  best  gifts  on  Saon's  lineage  shower.        B. 

In  honour  of  Pelagon  the  fisherman,  has  his  father 
Meniscus  offered  up  a  wicker-net  and  oar,  a  memorial  of 
his  wretched  life. 

"  The  isle  was  Thasus,  as  appears  from  Plutarch  ii.  p.  604,  C,  byv^hom 
the  fragment  has  been  preserved. 

•— '  Such  is  the  version  of  Dorville's  reading,  adopted  by  Jacobs.  But 
as  the  Vat.  MS.  has  TlaXSec  a<piavac  loitra — perhaps  Sappho  wrote  Ilat^^c 
d^uivoQ  yXiatTtTa — for  the  inscription  was  probably  written  on  a  scroll,  that 
appeared  to  come  out  of  the  child's  mouth,  and  hung  down  to  its  feet. 

^  From  Stephan.  Byz.  in  Ai9i6inov,  quoted  by  Jacobs,  it  seems  to  be 
uncertain,  whether  by  kiQioviq.  we  are  to  understand  a  town  in  Lydia  or 


This  oar  and  net,  and  fisher's  wicker  snare, 
Themiscus  placed  above  his  buried  son ; 

Memorials  of  the  lot  in  life  he  bare. 

The  hard  and  needy  life  of  Pelagon.     Elton. 


*  These  lines  (are)  from  gentle  hands,  0  best  Prome- 
theus.^ Even  men  are  equal  to  you  in  cleverness.  For 
whoever  painted  this  virgin  exactly,  if  he  had  added  a 
voice,  she  would  have  been  Agatharchis  wholly. 

From  skilful  hands  my  being  I  derive ; 

O  best  Prometheus,  own  that  human  art 
May  with  thy  plastic  power  not  vainly  strive ; 

Here  Agatharchis  breathes  in  every  part, 
Save  that  she  wants  the  charm  of  voice,  alive.  J.  H.  M. 

Thee  too,  Cleanorides,  did  a  desire  for  father-land 
destroy,  while  confiding  in  the  wintry  whirlwind  of  a 
south-easter.^  For  it  ^bound  thee  without  a  bail  to 
Fate  ;^  and  the  wet  waves  overwhelmed  thy  youth  stiU* 

Thee  too,  Cleaner,  strong  Desire  laid  lowi 
Desire,  that  wretched  exiles  only  know, 

' — *  This  is  the  literal  version  of  Jacob's  text,  'E^  6.TCLKav  YupCJv  Tah 
ypdfifiaTa,  Xiptrrt  UpofiriOev.  But  as  MS.  Vat.  has  AsK'  for  E?— and  as 
XififfTt  could  not  thus  stand  by  itself,  perhaps  Erinna  wrote,  Al^'— - — 
irXdffTa  JlpofirjOtv,  "  Receive,  O  moulder  Prometheus — "  From  which 
it  would  seem  that  the  picture,  or  statue — for  ypdfifiara  might  apply  to 
either — waa  put  up  in  a  temple  of  Prometheus. 

*  This  seems  here  the  best  version  of  Norow :  although  this  union  of 
XiifJitptri  and  Norow  appears  rather  strange.  For  Noroc  is  opposed  to 
Bopsac  in  Claudian  Epigr.  5. 

*—?  Casaubon,  unable  to  understand  "Qpri  yap  <rt  Tre^jjacv  avkyyvoCt  sug- 
gested Avpj; —  But  A0pj;  is  rarely,  if  ever,  applied  to  a  boisterous  wind ; 
and,  if  it  were,  one  cannot  understand  how  a  wind  could  be  said  to  be 
&vsyyvoCt  "  without  a  surety  or  bail."  Perhaps  the  poet  wrote  Moi'py  yap 
,  </  ivsdrjffiv  dviyyvov — remembering  the  expression  in  Homer,  dry  ft  Iv- 
idriffi  papily — while  dviyyvov  would  allude  to  the  fiction  of  there  being 
no  one  ready  to  be  a  security  for  Cleanorides,  and  willing  to  sufier,  should 
he  escape. 

*  In  the  unintelligible  dtp*  \fiipTdv  evidently  lies  hid  tO*  ifieprdv — 


Of  thy  loved  native  land.     The  tyrant  sway 
Of  winter  had  no  force  to  make  thee  stay. 
Thy  fatal  hour  was  come ;  and  tempest-sped, 
The  wild  waves  closed  around  thy  cherish'd  head. 

J.  H.  M. 
He  is  no  friend,  who,  drinking  wine  near  a  ftdl  flagon, 
talks  of  quarrels  and  tearful  war :  but  he  is  one,  who, 
mixing  together  the  glorious  gifts  of  the  Muses  and 
Venus,  brings  to  remembrance  delightful  mirth. 
Ne'er  shall  that  man  a  comrade  be, 
Or  drink  a  generous  glass  with  me, 
Who  o'er  his  bumpers  brags  of  scars, 
Of  noisy  brawls,  and  mournful  wars. 
But  welcome  thou,  congenial  soul, 
And  share  my  purse  and  drain  my  bowl. 
Who  canst  in  social  knot  combine 
The  Muse,  Grood-humour,  Love,  and  Wine.       Bl. 

I  am  a  virgin  in  brass,  and  I  lie  over  the  tomb  of 
Midas.  As  long  as  water  shall  flow,  and  tall  trees  grow, 
and  rivers  be  fuJl,  and  the  sea  wash  round,  and  the  sun 
on  returning  be  seen,^  and  the  moon  (be)  bright,  here 
shall  I  remain  on  his  much- wept  tomb,  and  tell  to  passers- 
by  that  Midas  is  buried  here. 

Sculptured  in  brass,  a  virgin  bright, 

On  Midas*  tomb  I  stand. 
While  water  cools — while  flowers  delight — 

While  rivers  part  the  land — 
While  ocean  girds  the  earth  around— 

While  with  returning  day 
Phoebus  returns,  and  Night  is  crown'd 

By  Luna's  glimmering  ray — 
So  long  as  these  shall  last,  will  I, 

A  monument  of  woe. 
Declare  to  every  passer-by. 

That  Midas  sleeps  below.         J.  H.  M. 

'  As  ^aivy  is  used  here  improperly  for  (f^aivtirai,  we  may  adopt  X^nxy, 
found  in  the  Pseud.-Herodotcan  Life  of  Homer. 



Through  the  valour  of  these  men,  the  smoke  of  ex- 
tensive Tegea,  when  it  was  burning,  did  not  reach  the 
sky.  They  were  willing  to  leave  to  their  children  their 
city  flourishing  in  freedom,  and  to  die  themselves  in  the 
&ont  rank. 

'Twas  by  their  valour  that  to  heaven  ascended 
No  curling  smoke  from  Tegea's  ravaged  field ; 

Who  chose — so  as  the  town  their  arms  defended 
They  to  their  sons  a  heritage  might  yield, 

Inscribed  with  freedom's  ever-blooming  name. 

Themselves  to  perish  in  the  ranks  of  fame.     J.  H.  M. 


Truly  a  great  light  arose  to  the  Athenians,  when 
Aristogeiton  and  Harmodius  killed  Hipparchus. 

Fair  was  the  light,  that  brightened  as  it  grew, 
Of  Freedom  on  Athena's  favour'd  land, 

When  him,  the  tyrant,  bold  Harmodius  slew, 

Link'd  with  Aristogeiton,  hand  in  hand.  J.  H.  M. 


*  Me  the  goat-footed  Pan,  the  Arcadian,  (the  fighter) 
against  the  Modes,  (and)  on  the  side  of  the  Athenians, 
did  Miltiades  put  up.^ 

The  cloven-footed  deity, 

Dread  king  of  sylvan  Arcady, 

Th'  Athenians'  hope,  the  Persians'  fear, 

Miltiades  has  station'd  here.  J.  H.  M. 


*  These  divine  women  stood  praying  to  Venus  for  the 
Greeks  and  our  fellow-citizens  engaged  in  a  stand-up 
fight.     For  divine  Venus  had  no  thought  of  delivering 

' — '  The  story  alluded  to  about  Pan  aiding  the  Greeks  against  the 
Persians  is  told  by  Herodotus,  vi.  105. 

* — '  It  appears  from  AthensBus,  Plutarch,  and  the  Scholiast  on  Pindar, 
quoted  by  Jacobsi  that  this  Epigram  was  'written  under  the  pictures,  or 


Up  the  Acropolis  of  the   Greeks  to  the  bow-bearing 

For  those  who,  fighting  on  their  countrjr's  side, 

Opposed  th'  imperial  Mede's  advancing  tide. 

We,  votaresses,  to  Cythera  pra/d ; 

Th'  indulgent  power  vouchsafed  her  timely  aid. 

And  kept  the  citadel  of  Hellas  free. 

From  rude  assaults  of  Persia's  archery.     J.  H.  M. 


Democritus  was  the  third  commander  in  the  fight, 
when  the  Greeks  engaged  with  the  Medes  at  sea,  near 
Salamis.  Five  ships  of  the  enemy  did  he  take,  and 
rescued  a  sixth,  a  Dorian  one,  from  the  hands  of  the 
barbarians  after  it  had  been  taken. 

Democritus  was  third  in  place  on  that  auspicious  day. 
When  Greeks  with  Persians  mingled  on  the  waves  in  dire 

Five  hostile  barks  he  captured  then ;  the  sixth,  that  late 

was  ta'en, 
By  foes  barbaric  he  redeemed,  and  gave  to  Greece  again. 

J.  H.  M. 


We  formerly,  O  stranger,  inhabited  the  well-watered  ^ 
city  of  Corinth.  But  now  Salamis,  the  island  of  Ajax, 
holds  us.  There,  after  taking  Phoenician  vessels  from 
the  Persians  and  Medes,  we  liberated  the  holy  land  of 

We  dwelt  of  yore  in  Corinth  by  the  deep ; 

In  Salamis,  Ajacian  isle,  we  sleep. 

The  ships  of  Tyre  we  routed  on  the  sea. 

And  Persia,  warring,  holy  Greece,  for  thee.       C.  M. 

statues  of  brass,  put  up  in  honour  of  some  women  of  Ck)rinth,  who  during 
the  Persian  invasion  had  offered  up  prayers  to  their  tutelary  goddess  for 
the  success  of  the  Greeks. 

1  Because  Corinth  had  the  sea  on  its  eastern  and  western  side,  and 
.  hence  was  called  "  bimaris  "  by  Horace. 



This  is  the  tomb  of  that  Adeimantus,  by  whose  coun- 
sels Greece  put  on  a  crown  of  freedom. 

Here  Adeimantus  rests  ;  the  same  was  he, 
Whose  counsels  won  for  Greece  the  crown  of  liberty. 

J.  H.  M. 

From  the  time  when  the  sea  divided  Europe  from 
Asia,  and  impetuous  Mars  superintended  the  wars  of 
mortals,  never  has  a  deed  been  done  by  men  on  the 
earth  more  honourable,  on  the  continent  and  by  sea  to 
boot.  For  these,  after  destroying  many  of  the  Modes  on 
land,  took  at  sea  a  hundred  ships  of  the  Phoenicians, 
full  of  men ;  and  greatly  did  Asia  groan,  when  struck 
by  them,  by  both  arms,  the  strength  of  war. 

Ne'er  since  that  olden  time,  when  Asia  stood 
First  torn  from  Europe  by  the  ocean  flood, 
Since  homed  Mars  first  pour'd  on  either  shore 
The  storm  of  battle,  and  its  wild  uproar. 
Hath  man  by  sea  and  land  such  glory  won, 
As  for  the  mighty  deed  this  day  was  done. 
By  land  the  Medes  in  myriads  press  the  ground  ; 
By  sea  a  hundred  Tyrian  ships  are  drown'd, 
With  all  their  martial  host ;  while  Asia  stands 
Deep  groaning  by,  and  wrings  her  helpless 'hands. 

J.  H.  M. 


These  by  Eurymedon  lost  of  old  their  brilliant  period 
of  youth,  while  nghting  as  spearmen  with  the  first  ranks 
of  the  bow-bearing  Medes,  and  as  foot-soldiers  even 
upon  the  swift-going  ships ;  and  dying  they  have  left  a 
most  honourable  memorial  of  their  valour. 

These  by  the  stream  of  famed  Eurymedon, 
Their  envied  youth's  short  brilliant  race  have  run. 
In  swift-wing'd  ships,  and  on  th'  embattled  field, 
Alike  they  forced  the  Median  bows  to  yield, 


Breaking  their  foremost  rank.     Now  here  tbey  lie, 
Their  names  inscribed  on  rolls  of  victory.     J.  H.  M. 

These  along  Eurymedon, 

Foremost  in  the  arrowy  fray, 

Persia's  mighty  host  upon 

Threw  their  golden  youth  away ; 

Warriors  thus  by  land  and  sea, 

Famed  for  aye  in  chivalry.     G.  F.  D.  T. 


Impetuous  war  washed  formerly  with  ruddy  drOps  * 
in  the  bosoms  of  these  men  the  long-pointed  arrows. 
And  in  the  place  of  men,  who  died,  the  receptacles  of 
short  spears,  this  dust  conceals  the  soulless  monument  of 
persons  (once)  endued  with  soul.^ 

In  life-blood  streaming  from  those  stubborn  hearts. 
The  lord  of  war  once  bathed  his  barbed  darts. 
Where  are  those  warriors,  patient  of  the  spJear  ? 
Dust — soulless,  lifeless  dust,  alone  lies  here. .  B. 

These  bows  and  arrows,  after  ceasing  from  tearful 
war,  are  laid  up  under  the  roof  of  the  temple  of  Athena, 
having  frequently  during  a  moan-producing  rout  in  a 
battle  been  bathed  in  the  blood  of  men  of  Persia  fighting 
on  horseback. 

From  wound  and  death  they  rest — ^this  bow  and  quiver, 

Beneath  Minerva's  holy  roof  for  ever. 

Once  did  their  shafts  along  the  battle  speed, 

And  drink  the  life-blood  of  the  charging  Mede.  R. 

No  longer  bent  in  deadly  fight,  these  bows 
Beneath  Minerva's  sacred  fane  repose. 
Wielded  in  many  a  battle-rout,  they  lie 
Bathed  in  the  blood  of  Persian  cavalry.     H.  W. 

*  So  Jacobs  understands  (poiviaatf. — yj/exdii. 

•  In  lieu  of  ifi^itx^v  one  would  prefer  cvt/^vxcay — "with  a  brave  soul; " 
for  even  cowards  could  be  called  ifiij/vxoi,  * 


So  rest,  long  ashen  spear,  against  the  tall  column, 
waiting  for  the  sacred  rites  of  Zeus  Fanomphaeus ;  *  for 
already  is  the  brass  old,  and  thou  art  worn  down,  being 
frequently  wielded  in  the  hostile  conflict. 

Against  this  pillar  tall,  thou  taper  spear, 

Eepose,  to  Jove  oracular  offer'd  here  ; 

For  now  thy  brass  is  old,  and  worn  at  length 

By  warlike  uses,  thou  hast  lost  thy  strength. 

Good  ashen  spear,  that  erst  this  arm  did  wield. 
And  hurl,  fierce  hissing,  through  the  battle-field ; 
Now,  peaceful  resting  in  the  sacred  grove. 
Thou  lead'st  the  pomp  of  Fanomphaean  Jove.    J.  H.  M. 

Here,  tapering  lance,  beneath  the  dome 
Of  Jove  oracvJar,  be  thy  home, 

Ton  column  tall  thy  stay  ; 
Dull'd  is  thy  point,  once  keen  and  bright, 
And  brandish'd  oft  in  mortal  fight, 

Thy  shaft  is  worn  away.  G.  S. 


Farewell,  ye  best  men  in  war,  young  men  of  Athens, 
after  obtaining  great  glory,  as  pre-eminent  in  the  deeds 
of  cavalry ;  who  for  your  country,  ^  famous  for  beautiful 
choirs,^  lost  the  age  of  youth,  wmle  fighting  oppbsed  to 
very  many  of  the  Greeks. 

Hail,  great  in  war,  all  hail,  by  glory  cherish'd, 

Athena's  sons,  in  chivalry  renown'd ; 
For  your  sweet  native  soil  in  youth  ye  perish'd. 

When  Hellas  leagued  in  hostile  ranks  was  found. 

J.  H.  M. 


We  were  subdued  in  the  hollow  under  (Mount)  Dir- 

*  As  giving  all  kinds  of  oracles. 

'— *  In  KoXXixopov  there  is  an  allusion  to  the  Xopbc  of  the  drama,  found 
chiefly  at  Athens. 


phys.  But  a  monument  has  been  heaped  up  over  us  at  the 
public  expense,  near  the  Euripus,  not  unjustly.  For 
we  lost  our  lovely  youth,  while  receiving  the  wild  cloud 
of  war. 

At  Dirphys'  foot  we  fell ;  and  o'er  us  here, 
Beside  Euripus*  shore,  this  mound  was  piled ; 

Not  undeserved  ;  for  youth  to  us  was  dear, 

And  that  we  lost  in  battle's  tempest  wild.  Steeling. 

In  thy  hollow  recess,  rugged  Dirphys,  we  fell ; 

By  wide-rolling  Euripus  our  monument  stands ; 
Nor  false  is  the  story  it  seemeth  to  tell, 

How  our  sun  set  in  clouds  o'er  those  far-distant  sands. 

J.  H.  M. 


O  thou  vine,  the  all-soother,  the  nurse  of  wine,  the 
mother  of  the  grape,  who  producest  the  twisting  bend 
of  the  curling  tendril,  mayest  thou  grow  in  freshness  on 
the  top  of  the  grave-stone  of  Anacreon,  and  on  the 
slight  mound  of  this  tomb,  so  that  the  lover  of  the  un- 
mixed juice,  and  who  heavy  with  wine  was  fond  of 
revelry,  may  all  night  long  strike  the  lyre,  dear  to  youths, 
and  drink  even  in  the  grave,  and  take  to  himself  the 
transparent  grape  from  the  branch  in  due  season  hang- 
ing over  his  head ;  and  may  its  dew-drop  moisten  him, 
sweeter  than  which  the  old  man  was  wont  to  breathe 
from  his  soft  lips. 

All-cheering  vine,  with  purple  clusters  crown'd, 
Whose  tendrils,  curling  o'er  the  humble  mound 
Beneath  whose  turf  Anacreon's  relics  rest, 
Clasp  the  low  column  rising  o'er  his  breast, 
Still  may'st  thou  flourish  ;  that  the  bard  divine. 
Who  nightly  sang  the  joys  of  love  and  wine, 
May  view,  though  sunk  amongst  the  silent  dead, 
Thy  honours  waving  o'er  his  aged  head  ; 
Whilst  on  his  ashes  in  perennial  rills, 
Soothing  his  shade,  thy  nectar'd  juice  distils  ; 


Sweet  juice !  but  sweeter  still  the  words  of  fire, 
That  breathed  responsive  to  his  tuneful  lyre. 

W.  Shepherd. 
Sweet  queen  of  autumn,  mother  of  the  wine. 
Trail  thy  green  tresses,  sorrow-soothing  vine. 
Thy  waving  tendrils,  round  the  pillar'd  stone. 
Above  the  grave  where  sleeps  Anacreon  ; 
That  he,  the  bard  who  led  the  tipsy  choir 
The  livelong  night,  and  struck  the  joyous  lyre. 
May  yet,  though  dead,  around  his  brows  entwine 
A  wreath  of  grapes,  a  garland  from  the  vine. 
Breathe  o'er  his  tomb  thy  sweet  and  dewy  rain ; 
Who  rests  below  once  waked  a  sweeter  strain.         R. 

Mother  of  clustered  fruit  and  gushing  wine. 
With  verdant  ringlets  deck'd,  all-cheering  vine. 
Wind  o'er  the  crowning  stone  and  lowly  mound, 
Where  rests  Anacreon  in  this  sheltering  ground. 
That  he,  sheer-tippling  reveller,  all  night  long, 
Whose  amorous  lyre  struck  forth  a  wanton  song, 
Stretch'd  though  in  earth  he  lies,  may  o'er  his  brow 
Bear  the  rich  burden  of  thy  teeming  bough  ; 
And  still  thy  dew  the  loved  old  bard  may  sip, 
Whose  own  soft  lay  fell  sweeter  from  his  lip.    G.  Bo. 


This  tomb  in  his  country  of  Teos  has  received  Ana- 
creon, the  minstrel  immortal  through  the  Muses ;  who 
fitted  songs,  breathing  Graces  and  breathing  Loves,  to  his 
delightful  desire  for  young  persons.  He  alone  is 
weighed  down  (with  grief)  near  Acheron,  not  because 
leaving  the  sun  he  has  met  there  with  the  mansions  of 
oblivion,  but  because  he  has  left  the  graceful  Megisteus 
in  company  with  young  persons,  and  the  love  he  felt  for 
the  Thracian  Smerdis.  And  he  does  not  forget  the 
strain,  delighting  like  honey ;  and  though  dead  he  has 
not  put  to  sleep  that  lyre  of  his  in  Hades. 

Behold  !  where  Teos  shrouds  her  minstrel  son. 
The  deathless  bard,  the  lost  Anacreon, 

432  GREEK  AKTH0L06T. 

Whose  raptur'd  numbers,  wing'd  with  soft  desire. 

Did  all  the  Graces,  all  the  Loves  inspire. 

For  this  alone  he  grieves  within  the  grave  ; 

Not  that  the  sun  is  dark  on  Lethe's  wave, 

But  that  Megiste's  eyes  he  may  not  see. 

Nor,  Thressa,  still  look  wistfully  on  thee. 

Still  he  remembers  music's  honey'd  breath, 

Still  wakes  the  lyre  beneath  the  house  of  death.     R. 


May  those,  who  murdered  me,  meet  in  return,  O  Zeus, 
who  presidest  over  hospitality,  with  a  like  fate;  but  may 
those,  who  placed  me  under  ground,  enjoy  their  life. 

O  holy  Jove,  my  murderers,  may  they  die 

A  death  like  mine ;  my  buriers  live  in  joy.     R, 


*  This  is  the  saviour  of  Simonides  of  Ceos ;  who,  al- 
though dead,  repaid  a  favour  to  the  living.^ 

Behold  the  bard's  preserver.     From  the  grave 
The  spectre  came  the  living  man  to  save.        R. 


Go  ye  to  the  shrine  of  Demeter>  go  ye,  sharers  in  her 
mysteries,  nor  fear  the  flowing  forth  of  the  water  in 
winter.  For  such  a  safe  bridge  has  Xenocles  of  Lindus 
thrown  for  you  across  this  wide  stream. 

Still  wend  your  way,  ye  mystic  votaries. 
To  Ceres'  shrine,  nor  dread  the  wintry  tide. 
For  you  the  Lindian  stranger,  Xenocles, 
Has  built  this  causeway  o'er  Cephisus  wide.     R. 

' — '  The  story  to  which  this  distich  alludes,  is  told  by  Cicero  de  Diri- 
nat.  i.  27 :  "  After  Simonides  had  seen  the  corpse  of  some  unknown  per- 
son thrown  on  the  shore  by  the  sea  and  had  buried  it,  he  intended  to  go 
on  board  a  vessel,  but  was  advised  by  the  ghost  of  the  buried  party  not 
to  do  so ;  for  that,  if  he  set  sail,  he  would  be  shipwrecked ;  whereupon 
he  returned,  while  the  rest,  who  had  sailed,  were  lost." 



Euphro^  and  Thais,  and  Boidion,  Hhe  old  women  of 
Diomedes,^  ^(in  size  like)  merchant  vessels  with  twenty 
rows  of  benches,^  have  thrown  overboard  Apis,  and 
Cleophon,  and  Antagoras,  each  of  them  one,  quite 
naked;  'worse  than  if  they  had  been  shipwrecked.'  But 
do  ye  avoid  the  piracies  of  Venus  together  with  her 
ships ;  for  these  are  more  inimical  than  the  Sirens. 

IMITATED   BY  J.  H.  M. 

Three  roving  vessels  in  the  Cyprian  trade 
Here  on  these  noted  shoals  have  shipwreck  made 
Of  three  brave  mariners,  and  naked  sped 
From  port  to  port  to  beg  their  daily  bread. 
Sailors,  be  warn'd.     How  bright  soe'er  she  be, 
Venus  can  cheat  you  like  her  mother  sea. 


STirebr  I  ween  that  wild  beasts  tremble  at  thy  white 
bones,  O  hunting-dog*  Lycas,  even  though  dead,  placed 
on  this  tomb.  For  the  great  Pelion  knew  thy  prowess, 
and  the  very  conspicuous  Ossa,  and  the  sheep-pastured 
look-outs  of  Cithaeron. 

Hound  Lycas,  even  now  tl^  white  bones  cold, 
Within  this  tomb,  must  needs  the  stags  arouse ; 

Thy  worth  great  Pelion  knew,  and  Ossa's  wold, 
And  all  Cithaeron's  solitary  brows.       Sterling. 

Dead  though  thou  art,  thy  whitening  relics  here 
Still,  Xycas,  still  the  woodland  stag  shall  fear. 

*— *  From  the  words  of  the  Scholiast  on  Aristoph.  Eccl.  1021,  where 
he  explains  Aio/x^^eca  dvdyKti,  one  would  have  expected  Jacobs  to  sug- 
gest Motpat  in  lieu  of  Tgalai. 

' — *  Such  may  perhaps  be  the  meaning  ofvavKXijpwv  6\Kd3ic  lUoffopot. 
But  the  interpretation  given  by  BrodsBus,  although  rejected  by  Jacobs, 
seems  preferable. 

'— '  To  get  at  this  sense,  which  alone  suits  the  context,  we  must  suppose 
that  the  author  wrote — vavfiy&v  fidoirovac,  not  vavriydv  ^ooovae — 

*  In  lieu  of  Aypvvra  the  sense  manifestly  leads  to  dyptvrd,  as  trans- 

2  p 


CithsBron  saw  thee  in  thy  fiery  flight, 

And  Pelion's  waste,  and  Ossa's  scarped  height.     B. 

Lycas,  thy  bleaching  bones  from  out  this  mound 
Startle  the  deer,  I  ween,  much-dreaded  hound ; 
Huge  Pelion  and  the  far-seen  Ossa  speak 
Thy  prowess,  and  Cithaeron's  lonely  peak.     H.  W. 

XL.    THE  SAME. 

Kings  of  Sparta  (were)  mv  father  and  brothers ;  and 
I,  Cynisca,  after  conquering  m  the  chariot-race  of  swift- 
footed  horses,  have  put  up  this  representation;  and  I 
say  that  I,  the  only  one  of  women  out  of  all  Greece, 
have  obtained  this  crown  of  victory. 

My  sire,  my  brethren,  Sparta's  princes  are ; 
Mine  were  the  coursers,  mine  the  conquering  car. 
'Twas  I,  Cynisca,  I  that  raised  this  stone ; 
I  won  the  wreath,  'mid  Grecian  maids  alone.     R. 


O  misty*  Geraneia,  thou  evil  rock,  thou  shouldest  have 
looked  upon  the  Ister  at  a  distance,  and  the  Tanais  ^far 
from  the  Scythians,*^  and  not  have  been  near  the  swell 
of  the  Sceironic  sea,  and  about  the  defiles  of  Molouris^ 
covered  with  snow.  Now  through  thee*  is  there  a  corpse 
stifiF  with  cold  in  the  sea ;  and  an  empty  tomb  here  tells 
of  a  grievous  voyaging. 

O  cloud-capt  Geranea,  rock  unblest, 

Would  thou  hadst  rear'd  far  hence  thy  haughty  crest, 

*  So  we  must  translate  *Eepirj,  not  "  lofty,"  with  Jacobs.  For  it  will 
be  thus  seen  that  the  voyage  turned  out  a  fatal  one,  through  the  mist  that 
descended  from  the  mountain  to  the  water. 

• — ^  Reiske  justly  objected  to  the  unintelligible  cai  kx  SievBkfav  fiaKpbv — 

*  This  is  the  happy  correction  of  Hemsterhuis  on  Lucian,  i.  p.  307,  in 
lieu  of  MtOovpiddog.  For  MoXovpic  was  a  promontory  near  Geranea,  as 
stated  by  the  Scholiast  on  Pindar. 

*  Here  again  Reiske  saw  there  was  something  wrong  in  Nwv  B*  6  fikv — 
but  he  did  not  see  that  the  poet  probably  wrote  NOv  Sid  <r* — For  thus  the 
mist  on  the  mountain  would  be  properly  considered  as  the  cause  of  the 


By  Tanais  wild,  or  wastes  where  Ister  flows, 
Nor  look'd  on  Sciron  from  thy  silent  snows* 
A  cold  stiff  corpse  he  lies  beneath  the  wave ; 
This  tomb  tells  tenantless  his  ocean  grave.        B. 

*  Foreign  dust  conceals  the  body;*  but  thee,  Clis- 
thenes,  while  wanderinff  in  the  Euxine  Sea,  did  the  fate 
of  death  overtake ;  and  thou  hast  missed  a  return  home 
pleasant,  honey-thmking,^  nor  hast  thou  arrived  at  Chios 

A  land  not  thine  hath  shed  its  dust  o'er  thee, 

A  fated  wanderer  o'er  the  Pontic  sea ; 

No  joys  for  thee  of  sweet  regretted  home ; 

To  sea-girt  Chios  thou  didst  never  come.     B. 


A  feeling  of  shame  led  Cleodamus  to  a  mournful  death 
at  the  outlet'  of  the  ever-flowing  Theserus,  when  he  met 
with  a  Thracian  troop.*  But  the  spear-bearing  son  of 
Diphilus  has  made  his  father's  name  famous. 

Shame,  glorious  shame,  beside  Theaerus'  wave,v 
Brought  Cleodamus  to  his  Ijpnour'd  grave, 
'Mid  Thracian  lances.     For  his  father's  name 
The  warrior  son  hath  gain'd  immortal  fame.     B. 

These,  who  were  carrying  the  spoils  of  war  from  the 
Tyrrhenians  to  Phcebus,  did  one  sea,  one  ship,  one  tomb 

* — '  Here  too  Reiske  was  not  without  reason  dissatisfied  with  2£|ia 
fikv — ^but  improperly  preferred  ^rifia,  the  reading  of  MS.  Vat.  Did  the 
poet  write  ^dfia  r&x  ^^'^  ^*  ^^  T* — i*  ®'  **  Perchance  foreign  dust  con- 
ceals the  body,  since — "  instead  of  £t  $k  irk — 

*  How  a  return  could  be  said  to  be  fie\i<f>povoQ — and  how  that  word  could 
by  an  antiptosis  be  applied  here  to  Clisthenes,  it  is  impossible  to  explain. 
Perhaps  the  author  wrote— ^  &fit\Tjg  0plyac — "  careless  in  mind — " 

>  By  this  is  meant,  says  Jacobs,  where  the  river  Thesrus,  called  Tea- 
ms by  Herodotus,  falls,  according  to  that  historian,  into  the  river  Ck)nta- 

*  Or  "  ambuscade,"  as  Jacobs  understands  X^xy. 

2  F  2 


These,  as  the  spoils  of  Tyrrhene  war,  to  Phoebus'  hallow'd  dome 
They  bore  away,  one  sea  received,  one  vessel,  and  one  tomb. 

J.  H.  M. 


There  is  nothing  tunongst  men  that  remains  firmly- 
fixed  for  ever ;  and  this  one  sentiment  the  man  of  Chios 
has  expressed  the  best, — "  As  is  the  race  of  leaves,  such 
is  of  men."  But  few  mortals,  receiving  it  through  the 
ears,  deposit  it  in  their  breasts.  For  to  each  is  present 
the  hope,  which  is  implanted  in  the  bosoms  of  young 
men.  And.  as  long  as  a  mortal  possesses  the  much-de- 
sired flower  of  youth,  he  has  light  thoughts,  and  imagines 
many  things  that  ore  never  to  be  accomplished.  For  he 
has  no  expectation  of  becoming  old  or  dying,  nor,  when 
he  is  in  health,  has  he  any  thoi^ght  of  sickness.  Simple- 
tons (are  they),  whose  mind  lies  in  this  direction,  and 
who  know  not  that  short  is  the  period  of  youth  and 
life  to  mortals ;  but  do  you,  after  learning  this,  endure 
to  the  end  of  life  in  gratifying  your  soul  with  good 

AU  human  things  are  subject  to  decay ; 
And  well  the  man  efOhios  tuned  his  lay— 
"  Like  leaves  on  trees,  the  race  of  man  is  found." 
Yet  few  receive  the  melancholy  sound, 
Or  in  their  breasts  imprint  this  solemn  truth ; 
For  Hope  is  near  to  all,  but  most  to  youth. 
Hope's  vernal  season  leads  the  laughing  hours. 
And  strews  o'er  every  path  the  fairest  flowers ; 
To  cloud  the  scene  no  distant  mists  appear ; 
Age  moves  no  thought,  and  death  awakes  no  fear. 
Ah !  how  unmindfid  is  the  giddy  crowd 
Of  the  small  span  to  youth  and  life  allow'd  I 
Ye  who  reflect,  the  short-lived  good  employ, 
And  whfle  the  T)ower  remains,  indulge  your  joy. 

J.  H.  M, 



*0f  the  snow,  with  which  the  sides  of  Olympus^  did 
the  bleak*  Boreas,  rushing  from  Thrace,  cover,  and  nip 
the  feelings  of  men  without  a  cloak,  but  which  has  been 
concealed,^  *  still  living,  after  being  wrapt  up  in  the 
Pierian  land^ — of  this  let  a  person  pour  a  portion  for 
me ;  for  it  is  not  right  to  carry  a  warm  drink  to  a  man, 
who  is  a  friend. 

With  this  the  north-wind,  rushing  sharp  from  Thrace, 

Hath  strewn  Olympus  to  his  giant  base, 

And  vex'd  the  cloakless  wanderer's  soul,  while  deep 

It  lay  beneath  the  cleft  and  crannied  steep. 

But  here  the  feast  its  tempering  breath  demands, 

For  draughts  preferr'd  by  hospitable  hands,     C.  M. 

XLVII.    THE  SAMR     . 

When  a  Gallus,*  to  avoid  the  approach  of  a  snow- 
storm, arrived  under  a  deserted  cliff,  and  had  wiped  off 

* — '  This  epi(in*ani,  as  we  learn  from  Athenaeus  iii.  p.  125,  C,  was  im- 
provised by  Stmonides,  when,  being  at  a  banquet  during  a  period  of 
excessive  heat,  the  cup-bearers  mixed  snow-water  with  the  wine  of  other 
persons,  but  not  with  his.  Merrivale  truly  observes  that  the  epigram  does 
not  sufficiently  express  the  occasion  of  it ;  which  it  would  have  done  more 
clearly,  had  the  Greek  been,  not  To  pa  wot*  OvXvfiwoio  vipl  wXevpdt 
ifcdXtnf/cv — Bopkfig — but  'Hi  pd  iror  Oitkvfiiroio  vi^l — and  shortly  after- 
wards, not  airrdpy  but  ^  d'  ^p' — as  translated.  For  ry  could  scarcely  be 
taken  for  ry^c,  as  Jacobs  fancies  it  might  be.  The  error  arose  from  the 
usual  confusion  in  MSS.  of  the  ligature  that  signifies  ^  and  cp,  as  shown 
by  Alberti  on  Hesych.  *'RpivvvQ, 

'  In  lieu  of  bic^C)  Valckenaer  suggested,  and  Brunck  adopted,  d^^c— 
for  both  of  those  scholars  knew,  what  others  did  not,  that,  although  int^ 
is  used  frequently  for  d^^c,  when  taken  in  a  mental  sense,  it  is  not  so, 
when  applied  to  a  bleak  wind. 

'  As  the  MSS.  offer  Udfi^fi^  an  evident  error  for  UaXv^Ofi,  as  re- 
marked by  Gaisford,  through  the  usual  confusion  between  \v  and  /i, 
and  as  p  and  X  are  in  like  manner  frequenUy  interchanged,  Brunck's 
iKpv^Bfi  is  to  be  preferred  to  Person's  lOdfOri,  although  the  latter  is  pa- 
tronized by  Jacobs. 

* — *  Jacobs  says  correctly  that  "  to  snow,  which,  when  alive,  that  is, 
unmelted,  is  put  under  the  ground,  is  applied  the  expression  used  in  the 
case  of  a  human  being  put  under  the  ground,  when  dead." 

'  By  this  name  was  known  a  priest  of  Cybel^. 


the  wet  from  his  hair,  on  his  footsteps  came  a  Hon  very- 
hungry^  to  the  hollow  path ;  when  he,  laying  hold  of  a 
large  tambourine  with  his  extended  hand,  struck  it, 
and  the  whole  cavern  resounded  with  the  noise ;  nor 
did  the  wood-inhabiting  wild  beast  *  remain  to  endure* 
the  sacred  sound  of  Cybel^,  but  rushed  quickly  through 
the  woody  mountain,  fearing  the  half-female  servant  of 
the  goddess,  who  for  Ehea  has  hung  up  these,  his  dress 
and  auburn  locks. 

From  wintry  snows,  descending  fiercely  round, 

A  priest  of  Cybele  a  shelter  found 

Beneath  a  desert  cliff,  that  beetling  stood 

O'er  the  wild  margin  of  the  ocean  flood. 

Here,  as  he  wrung  the  moisture  from  his  hair, 

He  saw,  advancing  to  his  secret  lair, 

With  hunger  fierce,  and  horrid  to  behold, 

The  gi^m  destroyer  of  the  nightly  fold. 

Then,  all  dismay'd,  the  sacred  drum  he  shook  . 

With  wide-extended  hand,  and  wildly  struck. 

He  struck ;  the  hollow  cave,  within,  around. 

On  every  side,  rebellow'd  to  the  sound. 

The  forest's  lord,  o'ercome  with  holy  dread. 

Back  to  his  native  woods,  loud  howling,  fled ; 

Fled  from  that  trembling  votary ;  he  in  praise 

Of  her,  whose  power  redeemed  his  forfeit  days. 

Now  hangs  these  locks,  and  garments  wet  with  brine. 

For  his  deliverance  due,  at  Rhea's  shrine.    J,  H.  M. 


O  venerable  Victory,  the  many-named  daughter  of 
Pallas,  mayest  thou  ever  look  with  forethought  on  the 
delightful  choirs  of  the  descendants  of  Cranaus,  and  in 
the  amusements  of  the  Muses,  place  many  wreaths  on 
the  brows  of  Bacchylides  of  Ceos. 

*  The  word  fiov^ayoq  means  either  "  ox-eating,"  or  "  very  hungry." — 
For  fiov^  like  Itttto,  in  composition,  signifies  "  excess."  So  we  say  "  horse- 
radish," when  speaking  of  a  large  radish,  and  still  more  strangely, "  horse- 
mackerel  "  in  a  similar  sense. 

* — *  The  Greek  has,  with  an  inverted  order,  lrXj|  iiiivtu. 


Oh !  sovereign  PallaDtean  progeny, 

Thou  many-titled  virgin  Victory, 

Long,  long  may'st  thou  behold  with  fav'ring  eyes 

The  bright  Cransean  choir  i  and  when  the  prize 

Of  song  the  Muses  have  adjudged,  bestow 

Thy  wreath  to  grace  the  Cean  poet's  brow.      J.  H.  M. 


Eudemus  has  dedicated  this  fane  in  the  field  to 
Zephyr,  the  most  mild  of  all  winds ;  for  to  him  on  prav- 
ing  the  god  came  as  a  helper,  in  order  that  he  migtt 
winnow  out  most  quickly  the  grain  firom  the  ripe  ears  of 

To  Zephyr,  kindest  wind  that  swells  the  grain, 

Eudemus  consecrates  this  humble  fane  ; 

For  that  he  hsten'd  to  his  vows,  and  bore 

On  his  soft  wings  the  rich  autumnal  store.    J.  H.  M. 


These  men  likewise  did  livid  Fate  destroy,  while 
sustaining  the  attack  of  spears,  and  defending  their 
country  rich  in  many  sheep.'  But  the  glory  of  the  dead 
is  still  living,  who  enduringly  invested  their  limbs  with 
the  dust  of  Ossa. 

These,  too,  defenders  of  their  country  fell — 
These  mighty  souls  to  gloomy  death  betray'd  ; 

Immortal  is  their  fame,  who,  suffering  well, 

Of  Ossa's  dust  a  glorious  garment  made.         C.  M. 

These  livid  Death  destroy'd,  who  with  spear  stood. 
And  from  their  country  turn'd  of  shields  the  flood. 
Still  lives  of  dead  the  fame  ;  whose  dust  the  sod 
Of  Ossa  keeps,  and  tells  where  brave  men  trod.     <7.  B. 

^  As  it  is  difficult  to  understand  how  the  soil  of  Attica,  or  even  of  any 
part  of  Greece,  except  Arcadia,  could  be  called  "  rich  in  many  sheep  " — 
the  author  probably  wrote  not  Moipa  voKigpuvov  warpiSa — but  Motp*, 
ShrXwv  ptvfi  tv  varpUi — where  SirXoiv  ptviia  would  be  similar  to  pevfian 
fnfTuv,  and  ^ivna^arparov,  in  iBsch.  Pers.  88,  and  404. 


LI.    THE  SAME. 

This  montiment  conceals  -ffischylus  of  Athens^  the  son 
of  Euphorion,  after  he  had  died  at  wheat-bearing  Gela. 
But  the  grove  of  Marathon  will  tell  of  his  prowess  in 
good  repnte,  and  the  Mede  with  long  hair,  who  knew  it. 

Athenian  .^chjlus,  Euphorion's  son. 

Buried  in  Gela's  fields  these  lines  declare  ; 
His  deeds  are  registered  at  Marathon, 

Ejdown  to  the  deep-haired  Mede,  who  met  him  there. 

C.  M. 
This  tomb  of  -Sischylus,  Euphorion's  son, 

At  Athens  born,  wheat-bearing  Gela  shows. 
Let  Marathon  tell  what  feats  by  him  were  done, 

And  what  the  vanquish'd  long-hair'd  Mede  well  knows. 

G.  B. 


Pausanias,  a  physician,  ^  rightly  so  called,*  the  son  of 
Anchitas,  a  man  ^  in  the  trade  of  -ffisculapius,^  his  coun- 
try Gela  has  buried;  who  turned  away  many  men, 
wasted  away  by  painful  diseases,  from  the  chambers  of 

Pausanias — ^not  so  named  without  a  cause — 

As  one,  who  oft  had  given  to  pain  a  pause — 

Blest  son  of  jEsculapius,  good  and  wise. 

Here  in  his  native  Gela  buried  lies  ; 

Who  many  a  wretch  once  rescued  by  his  charms, 

From  dark  Persephone's  constraining  arms.       J.  H.  M. 


The  best  measure  for  Bacchus  (wine)  is  what  is  not 
much,  nor  very  little.  For  he  is  the  cause  either  of 
grief  or  madness.     He  rejoices  in  being  mixed,  himself 

' — ^  The  name  Uav<raviac  is  feigned  to  be  formed  ftom  UavcM  dvtac* 
"  to  cause  pains  to  cease." 

•— •  The  Greek  is  'AfneXtimd^riv,  literally  "  a  son  of  ^scnlapios  "—for 
such  physicians  were  considered ;  just  as  "  blacksmiths  "  are  called  "  the 
sons  of  Vulcan  "  by  iBschylus  in  Eum.  13. 


the  fourth,  with  three  Nymphs ;  ^  and  then  he  is  the  most 
ready  for  the  rites  of  wedlock.  But  if  he  ^  breathes 
violently,^  he  turns  away  the  Loves,  and  is  drowned  in 
sleep,  the  neighbour  of  death. 

Water  your  wine  in  moderation — 
There's  grief  or  madness  in  a  strong  potation  ; 

For  'tis  young  Bacchus'  chiefest  pleasure 
To  move  with  Naiads  three  in  linked  measure. 

'Tis  then  he  is  good  company 
For  sports,  and  loves,  and  decent  jollity. 

But,  when  alone,  avoid  his  breath ; 
He  breathes  not  love,  but  sleep — a  sleep  like  death. 

C.  M. 

My  Star,'  upon  the  stars  thou  art  looking.  "Would 
that  I  were  heaven,  that  on  thee  I  might  look  with 
many  eyes. 

Why  dost  thou  gaze  upon  the  sky  ? 

Oh  !  that  I  were  yon  spangled  sphere ! 
Then  every  star  should  be  an  eye. 

To  wander  o'er  thy  beauties  here.      T.  Moore. 

The  stars,  my  Star,  thou  view'st ;  heaven  might  I  be, 
That  I  with  many  eyes  might  gaze  on  thee.  T.  Stanley. 

LV.    THE  SAME. 

While  kissing  Agathon,  I  had  my  soul  upon  my  lips. 
*  For  it  came,  the  hapless,  as  if  about  to  depart.* 

'  By  "  Nymphs  "  is  to  be  understood  "  water  "  personified. 

•  In  lieu  of  the  unintelligible  voXifg  vveiffreuvy  one  would  have 
expected  irXk^v  y&voq  tvatv,  "  the  liquor  has  warmed  him  quite  full/* 
or  irXcwv  Tdfi  tif<rtv — **  the  drinking  has  warmed  him  full " — ^and  thus 
/SairW^f ( would  be  taken  in  an  active  sense,  as  it  should  be,  as  applied  to 
ydvoCf  or  v&fia — unless  /SdTrrwrai  be  read,  as  suggested  by  Scaliger,  to 
which  f^atrrLKirai  in  Planudes  seems  to  lead. 

'  The  play  is  upon  'AoT^p,"thc  name  of  a  person,  and  a  star. 

^— *  Such  is  the' literal  version  of  the  Greek.  But  Plato  probably  wrote 
'HX^  yip,  o5  rXritiuv  ijv  Sui(3ri<rofA€Vfi—"  For  it  came  (thither)  from 
whence  it  was  about  to  depart" — ^not  rj  rXtifjuav,  r^ 


My  soul,  when  I  kiss'd  Agatbon,  did  start 

Up  to  my  lips,  just  ready  to  depart       T.  Stanley. 

Oh  !  on  that  kiss  my  soul, 
As  if  in  doubt  to  stay, 
Linger'd  awhile,  on  fluttering  wing  prepared 

To  fly  away.  J.  H.  M. 

I  pelt  thee  with  an  apple ;  and  do  thou,  if  willingly 
thou  lovest  me,  receive  it,  and  give  me  a  share  of  thy 
virginhood.  But  if  thou  art  thidcing  upon  what  I  wish 
may  not  happen,  take  this  very  *  (hint) — Think  on  thy 
beauty,  how  short-lived  it  is. 

An  apple  I,  love's  emblem,  at  thee  throw ; 
Thou  in  exchange  thy  virgin  zone  bestow. 
If  thou  refuse  my  suit,  receive  yet  this — 
"  Few  are  thy  years,  and  frail  thy  beauty  is." 

T.  Stanlet. 
I  throw  an  apple  at  my  fair ; 

And  if  she  love,  and  love  me  truly, 
She'll  guess  aright  the  hidden  prayer, 

Accept  it,  and  reward  me  duly. 
But  if— oh  let  it  not  be  spoken — 

She  has  no  mind  to  be  persuaded. 
Still  let  her  take  the  lover's  token, 

And  think  how  soon  it  will  be  faded. '       C.  M. 


A  frog,  all  attendant  on  the  Nymphs,  rain-loving,  a 
moist  mmstrel,  delighted  with  slight  leapings,*  did  a 

*  In  lieu  of  rotJr*  aitrh,  the  sense  seems  to  require — rowr'  &XXo — •*  this 
other  thing—" 

*  This  is  the  ingenious  correction  of  Jacobs,  who  saw  acutely  that  in 
Htv  XxpiAm.  Kov^otc  lay  hid  "AX/mm  rbv  kov^oiq,  similar  to  SXnart  Koi^i^ 
in  Oppian,  and  cou^occ  SXfAa<riv  in  Heliodorus.  Others,  perhaps,  will 
prefer  'OicXd(rE<riv  cov^i c :  for  6K\dZia  and  its  deriTatives  were  the  pro- 
per words,  applied  to  the  leap  of  a  frog,  as  shown  by  Pseudo-Babrias» 
Fab.  25.  Kai  PaTpdxufV  5/aiXov  dSov  dKraitiw,  BaOtiav  tig  iXdv  6feXaoTc 
miSwvTwv:  for  so  found  Suidas  in  his  MS.,  who  quotes  the  verse  in 
-OcXa^tac :  but  as  the  Athos  MS.  reads  dK^aiivri,  perbi^  Socrates  wrote 


wayfarer  mould  in  brass,  and  put  up  as  his  vow,  on 
having  cured*  his  thirst,  the  most  disagreeable  in  hot 
weather.  For  it  showed  him,  while  wandering,  the  water, 
by  croaking  opportunely  with  its  amphibious  mouth  from 
a  hollow  and  wet  place  ;  and  the  wayfarer,  not  leaving 
the  gtdding  voice,  found  a  draught  of  the  pleasant  drops^ 
that  he  desired. 

Servant  of  the  Nymphs,  who  dwell 
In  the  fountain's  deepest  cell, 
Lover  of  shades,  hoarse  frog,  who  carol'st  free, 
Where  streamlets  run,  thy  rustic  minstrelsy, 
Me,  the  thirsty  traveller, 
Has  in  brass  ensculptured  here, 
A  grateful  offering  to  the  powers,  who  gave, 
To*  slake  his  burning  thirst,  the  welcome  wave. 
Croaking  minstrel,  faithful  guide, 
I  reveal'd  the  hidden  tide 
Of  waters,  bubbling  from  the  reedy  lake. 
That  agony  of  burning  thirst  to  slake.     J.  H.  M. 


Formerly  thou  didst  shine  amongst  the  living  as  the 
morning  star ;  but  now,  being  dead,  thou  shinest  amongst 
the  dead  the  evening  star. 

A  Phospher  'mongst  the  living  late  wert  thou ; 

But  shin'st  amongst  the  dead  a  Hesper  now.  T.  Stanley. 

In  life  thou  wert  my  morning  star ; 

But  now  that  death  has  quench'd  thy  light, 
Alas  I  thou  shinest  dim  and  far, 
Like  the  pale  beam  that  weeps  at  night*     T.  Moore. 


Tears  for  Hecuba  and  the  women  of  Ilium  did  the 
Fates  weave,  'for  them  born  then.'    But  for  thee,  Dion, 

*  This  is  the  version  of  aKurtrdfievog  found  in  MS.  Vat.  For  the  way- 
farer himself,  not  the  frog  for  him»  cured  his  thirst;  although  it  is  true 
that  the  frog  led  the  man  to  the  water. 

*  In  lieu  of  vafjiaTwv,  found  in  MS.  Vat.  contrary  to  the  metre,  Brunck 
edited  Xipadutv.  But  Jacobs  thinks  that  some  other  word  was  the  ge- 
nuine one.     How  strange  he  did  not  think  of  trraySvuv — 

• — *  As  it  is  difficult  to  extricate  a  satisfactory  sense  from  the  words  dif 

444       *  GREEK  ANTHOLOGY, 

wlio  hadst  made  for  thyself  a  wreath  of  victory  for  hon- 
ourable deeds,  have  the  deities  scattered  thy  wide  *  hopes ; 
and  thou  liest  in  thy  extensive  native  land,  honoured  by 
citizens,  O  Dion,  thou  that  hast  maddened  my  mind 
with  love. 

Old  Hecuba's  and  Trojan  matrons'  fears 

Were  interwoven  by  the  Fates  with  tears ; 

But  thee,  with  blooming  hopes,  dear  Dion,  deckt, 

Gods  did  a  trophy  of  their  power  erect. 

Thy  honoured  relics  in  thy  country  rest, 

Ah !  Dion,  whose  love  rages  in  my  breast   T.  Stanley. 

For  Priam's  queen  and  daughters  at  their  birth 

The  Fates  weaved  tears  into  the  web  of  life ; 
But  for  thee,  Dion,  in  thy  hour  of  mirth, 

When  triumph  crown'd  thine  honourable  strife, 
Thy  gathering  hopes  were  pour'd  upon  the  sand. 

Thee  still  thy  countrymen  revere,  and  lay 
In  the  broad  precincts  of  thy  native  land. 

But  who  the  passion  of  my  grief  can  stay  ?     CM. 

LX.    THE  riAME. 

Thou  seest  me  a  shipwrecked  person,  whom  the  sea 
through  pity  was  ashamed  to  despoil  of  my  last  dress. 
But  a  man  with  fearless  hands  stript  me,*  taking  upon 

rSre  ynvofiivaic,  perhaps  the  poet  wrote  \dfiirp*  ifrtnivofjisvaic,  **  stretch- 
ing after  splendid  things  ;'*  and  thus  Hecuba  and  the  Trojan  women,  who 
aimed  at  something  brilliant,  are  properly  opposed  to  Dion,  who  did 
something  brilliant.  With  regard  to  the  metaphor,  it  may  be  compared 
with  that  in  Horace — "  Quid  brevi  fortes  jaculemur  8bvo  Multa;"  by  the 
aid  of  which  has  been  corrected  Eurip.  Hippol.  920,  'Q  w6X\*  afiaprd- 
vovTiQ  &v6p(airoi  iidrtiv^  by  reading  'Q  woXX*  &yav  THvovreg — similar  to 
&  Kivol  pporCJv,  Oi  rdtov  kvriivovnc  tag  Kaipov  irspa,  in  Suppl.  744, 
or,  as  it  should  be  read — oif  nivovrfc  ««^»  Kaipov  irkpa — There  are,  indeed, 
those  who  would  translate  ^i)  rore  yuvofikvaic  by  "  at  their  birth.** — But 
such  a  meaning  would  require  the  omission  of  ^i)  tStb.  Others,  again^, 
would  unite  dri  wort  (for  so  reads  Planudes)  with  MieXfatTav.  But  as 
those  particles  would  be  perfectly  useless,  one  would  have  expected  rather 
Sjf<rvor/ia — 

*  In  lieu  of  ivpeiaCt  one  would  have  expected  aiplag —  For  "  airy 
hopes  **  are  less  firm  and  more  easily  scattered  than  "  wide.** 

*  This  seems  to  have  been  a  common  practice  even  in  ancient  times,  as 
appears  from  PhsBdrus,  quoted  by  Jacobs,  "Tunc  pauci  enatant — Pra- 
dones  adsunt ;  rapiunt  quod  quisque  extuUt.    Kudos  relinqnunt.** 


himself  for  such  a  gain  such  an  unholy  deed ;  ^  and  may 
he  put  it  on>^  and  may  it  be  carried  to  Hades^  and  may 
Minos  see  him  possessing  my  rag. 

The  cruel  sea,  which  took  my  life  away, 

Forbore  to  strip  me  of  my  last  array. 

From  this  a  covetous  man  did  not  refrain, 

Crime  so  great  acting  for  so  small  a  gain. 

But  let  him  wear  it  to  the  shades,  and  there 

Before  great  Pluto  in  my  dress  appear.     T.  Stanley. 

A  shipwreck'd  mariner  you  here  behold. 
From  whose  dead  limbs  e'en  Ocean  rude  relented 
To  strip  the  cloak,  that  did  these  limbs  enfold. 
Unpitying  man,  more  rude,  that  covering  tore- 
How  little  worth  to  be  so  long  repented ; 
So  let  him  bear  aWay  his  plundered  store. 
And  go  to  hell :  he'll  wish  the  deed  undone. 
When  Minos  sees  him  with  my  tatters  on.     J.  H.  M. 


When  we  arrived  at  a  grove  in  deep  shade,  we  found 
within  the  child  of  Cyth^ra,  *  like,  as  to  his  mouth,  to 
ruddy  apples.^  He  had  neither  an  arrow-holding  quiver, 
nor  a  bent  bow ;  for  they  were  hanging  on  wide-spread- 
ing trees ;  and  he  was  slumbering,  fettered  by  sleep  and 
simling  amongst  rose-leaves ;  and  brown  bees  above  him 
kept  going  to  his  wax-shedding  lips  ^for  the  sake  of  get- 
ting honey.* 

' — *  In  the  words  iceivd  Ktv  MixraiTo — for  so  MS.  Vat.,  not  fikv,  there 
is  no  doubt  some  error.  There  ought  to  be  some  allusion  to  the  man's 
punishment.  For  otherwise  there  would  be  no  use  in  Minos  merely 
seeing  the  dress.  Hence  Plato  probably  wrote  Kelvo  fiiy  &v  rifni,  8r€ 
K&v  'AtSao  0opotro— '*  Greatly  will  he  suffer  for  that  act,  when  it  is  worn 
in  Hades  " — where  0opoTro  is  due  to  Wakefield. 

'— '  As  it  should  be  told  in  what  way  he  was  like  red  apples,  it  is  pro- 
bable that  in  firiXonTiv  loucora  lies  hid  firiXoig  <rr6fi  lotKoraf  as  translated. 

s — 9  From  kvrbg  Xayapoig  in  MSB.  Vat.  and  Planud.,  to  which  Jacobs 
justly  objected,  it  is  easy  to  elicit — fikXiroc  ^i'  aypag,  which  it  is  strange 
he  did  not.  stumble  upon,  alter  quoting  iElian,  V.  H.  x.  21,  who  says  of 
Plato,  that  KoBMovTi  ifffide  fieXitraiiv  'Y/ijjm'oi;  fikXiroQ  iv  rolg  xcjXfffiv 
aiTov  KaOifTavai  vtrriyov —  for  so  we  must  read  in  lieu  of  vvySov, 


Within  the  covert  of  a  shady  grove 
We  saw  the  little  red-cheek'd  god  of  love ; 
He  had  no  bow  or  quiver ;  these  among 
The  neighbouring  trees  upon  a  bough  were  hung. 
Upon  a  bank  of  tender  rose-buds  laid, 
He  smiling  slept ;  bees  with  their  noise  invade 
His  rest,  and  on  his  lips  their  honey  made.  T.  Stanley. 
Deep  in  the  bosom  of  a  shady  grove, 
We  found,  conceal'd,  the  truant  god  of  love. 
The  boy  was  sleeping ;  and  his  smiling  face 
Glow'd  like  ripe  peaches  with  a  ruddy  grace. 
Unarm'd  he  lay ;  his  bow  and  quiver  hung 
Upon  the  leafy  boughs  of  trees ;  among 
Roses  fresh  blown  his  little  head  reposed. 
And  round  his  laughing  lips,  that,  half  unclosed. 
Invited  kisses  ;  dropping  from  on  high, 
A  swarm  of  golden  bees  began  to  ply 
Their  busy  task ;  as  if  no  hive  could  prove 
So  fit  for  honey  as  the  mouth  of  Love.  K. 

To  a  thick  wood  we  came ;  and  there  we  found 
Young  Love,  as  ruddy  apples  fair  to  see. 
And  fast  in  slumber's  softest  shackles  bound. 
Nor  bow  nor  quiver  full  of  shafts  had  he ; 
For  they  were  hanging  on  the  green-wood  tree. 
The  boy  himself,  with  rose-leaves  cradled  round, 
Lay  smiling,  as  he  slept,  with  half-closed  lip. 
Whose  juice  nectareous  oft  the  brown  bee  stoop'd  to  sip. 

G.  S. 

Earth  Jiolds  in  her  bosom  this  body  of  Plato ;  but  his 
soul  possesses  the  rank  of  the  blessed  equal  to  the  gods. 
Plato's  dead  form  this  earthly  shroud  ihvests ; 
His  soul  among  the  godlike  heroes  rests.       J.  H.  M. 

O  vine,  ^  surely  in  thus  hastening  to  shed  your  leaves, 
you  are  not  fearing*  the  Pleiad  setting  in  the  west  ?  Stay 

* — *  Such  is  Warton's  translation  of  fifiirore — <r7rc^^ov<ra — AtidtaQ — 
where  Jacobs  has  adopted  the  alteration  of  Salmasius— 'A/i9rfX',  iirf  t  roi — 
which  is  perfectly  unintelligible. 


till  a  sweet  sleep  falls  upon  Antileon,  (while  lying)  under 
you,*  *to  at  that  time  gratifying  the  handsome  persons  in 
all  things.* 

Sweet  Vine,  when  howls  the  wintry  hour, 

Not  now  thy  leafy  honours  shower, 

Nor  strew  them  on  the  thankless  plain ; 

Soon  autumn  will  come  round  again. 

Then,  when  with  heat  and  wine  opprest, 

Beneath  thy  grateful  bower  to  rest, 

Antileon  lays  his  drooping  head, 

Oh,  then  thy  shadowy  foliage  shed 

In  heaps  around  the  sleeping  boy ; 

Thus  Beauty  should  be  crown'd  with  joy.     J.  H.  M. 

Rest,  shining  shield,  at  this  holy  shrine,  a  warlike  ^ 
offering  to  Artemis  the  daughter  of  Latona.  For  frequent- 
ly in  a  conflict,  combating  *  on  the  arms  of  Alexander, 
thou  hast  never  soiled  with  dust  thy  golden  rim,^ 

A  holy  offering  at  Diana's  shrine, 

See  Alexander's  glorious  shield  recline  ; 

Whose  golden  orb,  through  many  a  bloody  day 

Triumphant,  ne'er  in  dust  dishonour'd  lay.     J.  H.  M. 

Let  us  stand  by  the  low  land  washed  by  the  sea  look- 

*  The  sense  seems  to  require  virb  trov,  as  translated,  not  iirb  rbv — 
where  both  virb  and  t6v  are  equally  unintelligible.    Meineke  would  read 

' — '  Such  is  the  literal  version  of  the  Greek,  'Ec  rdrt  rote  KaXoXg  irdvra 
Xapt^ofikva :  which  Jacobs  hopes  some  clever  critic  will  be  able  to  cor- 
rect. Now,  as  there  seems  to  be  here  an  allusion  to  the  story  told  by 
Nonnus  in  Dionys.  p.  308,  of  the  vine  being  originally  a  maiden,  with 
whom  Bacchus  fell  in  love,  and  was  afterwards  changed  into  a  vine,  per- 
haps the  poet  wrote,  "'He  vort  trdis  KctWog  iraiSi  xapt^o/ilva,  i.  e.  "  thou 
wast  formerly  a  girl  indulging  a  boy  with  thy  beauty  " — and  hence  thou 
mayest  as  a  vine  do  so  now.  Meineke,  however,  considers  this  allusion  to 
be  far-fetched,  and  Would  merely  alter  xapi^o/uva  into  xapt2^(5/i£da,  with 

'  Such  is  the  only  version  one  can  give  here  of  Sffiov — which  means 
Kterally"  hostile." 

*  Meineke  would  read  fta^afuvov — and  in  *»  yivw,  "  cheek,"  instead 
of  irvv. 


ing  upon  the  sacred  ^rove  of  the  marine  Venns,  and 
the  foiintain  shaded  by  black  poplars^  from  whence 
the  yellow-winged  Halcyons  draw  with  their  beaks  a 

Here  let  us  from  the  washed  beach  behold 

Sea-bom  Cythera's  venerable  fane ; 
And  fountains,  fringed  with  shady  poplars  old, 

Where  dip  their  wings  the  golden  Halcyon  train. 

J.  H.  M. 


No  longer  leaping  with  delight  in  seas  sailed  over 
shall  I  throw  up  my  neck,  rushing  from  the  deep,  nor 
*  shall  I  puff  out  my  beautiful  lips  near  a  well-benched 
ship,  delighted  with  the  cut-water,  made  like  myself.^ 
But  the  blue  water  of  the  sea  has  driven  me  on  land, 
and  I  lie  by  this  shelving  shore.* 

No  more  exulting  o'er  the  buoyant  sea 
High  shall  I  raise  my  head  in  gambols  free  ; 
*  Nor  by  some  gallant  ship  breathe  out  the  air, 
Pleased  with  my  own  bright  image  figured  there  ; 

* — ^  Such  seems  to  be  the  meaning  of  the  words  TrepucdXKta  x^'^V 
voi^v^(a — for  so  the  dolphin  is  generally  represented  in  ancient  works  of 
art.  But  as  voi^vaaia  is  elsewhere  intransitive,  Jacobs  uiHtes  x<*'^>7  'vnth 
wwc,  and  renders  ycwc  x£tXi|  "  navis  marginem.** — But  as  the  margin  of 
a  ship  would  mean,  if  it  meant  any  thing  at  all,  the  upper  part  of  the 
deck,  close  to  what  is  called  the  gangway,  it  is  difficult  to  understand 
how  the  dolphin,  if  it  could  get  there  by  a  violent  leap,  such  as  salmon 
are  known  to  msike  in  a  river,  could  see  the  cut- water,  on  which  one  of 
its  own  tribe  was  to  its  great  delight  represented ;  for  such  is  the  inter- 
pretation given  by  Kuster,  and  adopted  by  Jacobs,  of  the  words  r&fi^ 
TipndfAivoQ  irporofJtf. 

*  As  the  word  paSivbQ  means  "  tapering,**  when  applied  to  a  column, 
or  any  thing  placed  vertically,  it  might  perhaps  mean  '^shelving,**  when, 
said  of  a  thing  lying  horizontally ;  and  if  the  shore  were  a  shelving  one,  the 
water  at  its  edge  would  be  too  shallow  to  enable  the  fish  to  floaty  after  it 
had  been  thrown  by  a  wave  on  the  acyoining  land,  even  supposing  that  by- 
some  e£fort  it  got  back  from  the  land  to  the  water.  Perhaps  however  the 
poetess  wrote  cetfiai  ^  Siipavi^ — '*  And  through  weakness  I  lie  ;** — thus 
showing  that  the  fish  had  no  strength  to  get  back.  Meineke  would  read 
rpavadv—which  he  renders  *'  saxosam,**  a  meaning  not  given  to  that 
word  elsewhere. 


The  Storm's  black  mist  has  forced  me  to  the  land, 
And  laid  me  lifeless  on  this  couch  of  sand.         F.  H. 


We  axe  gone  to  the  grave,  O  Miletus,  our  loved  coun- 
try, not  consenting  to  the  \inrighteous  rudeness  of  the 
lawless  Galatians,  we  three  virgins  of  the  city,  whom 
the  violent  war  of  the  Celts  has  driven  to  this  fate.  For 
we  did  not  wait  for  ^  an  impious  bridegroom  even  on  the 
day  of  Hymen,*  but  we  found  in  Hades  an  alliance. 

Then  let  us  hence,  Miletus  dear,  sweet  native  land,  farewell ; 
Th'  insulting  wrongs  of  lawless  Gauls  we  fear,  whilst  here 

we  dwell. 
Three  virgins  of  Milesian  race,  to  this  dire  fate  compell'd 
By  Celtic  Mars  ;  yet  glad  we  die,  that  we  have  ne'er  beheld 
Spousals  of  blood,  nor  sunk  to  be  vile  hand-maids  to  our  foes, 
But  rather  owe  our  thanks  to  death,  kind  healer  of  our  woes. 

J.  H.  M. 


I  lament  for  the  maiden  Antibia;  for  the  love  of 
whom  many  suitors  came  to  her  father's  house,  through 
the  renown  of  her  beauty  and  wit;  but  destructive  fate 
has  rolled  away  their  hopes  far  from  ^  all. 

Drop  o'er  Antibia's  grave  a  pious  tear, 

For  Virtue,  Beauty,  Wit  lie  buried  here. 

Full  many  a  suitor  sought  her  father's  hall. 

To  gain  the  virgin's  love ;  but  death  o'er  jdl 

Claun'd  dire  precedence.     Who  shall  death  withstand  ? 

Their  hopes  were  blasted  by  his  ruthless  hand.        K. 

LXIX.    M(ERO. 
Thou  liest,  O  bunch  of  grapes,  filled  with  the  liquor 
of  Dioiiysus,  under  the  golden  portal  of  Aphrodite. 

* — '  Jacobs  has  justly  objected  to  alfia  rb  ^vff<re/3^c  oifi^  *Xfuvaiov 
"SvfA^iov —  But  he  did  not  see  that  the  poetess  wrote,  as  translated,  d/ian 
SvanepB  oid'  *Yfuvaiov  Vvfi^tov. 

'  As  liri  could  not  be  united  to  vpoauf,  nor  to  UvXifftrtf  we  must  read 
either  airb  or  iwb —  where  vwo  would  mean  "  secretly — ** 

2  o 


Nor  any  longer  shall  thy  mother  (the  vine),  throwing 
her  loved  branch  around  thee,  produce  the  nectar-yield- 
ing bud  above  thy  head. 

Beneath  Cythera's  golden  porch  thou  liest, 

Sweet  grape,  with  Bacchus'  richest  nectar  swelling. 
Thy  mother-plant,  amid  her  leafy  dwelling, 
Mourns  her  lost  child ;  far  off,  sweet  grape,  thou  diest. 

J.  H.  M. 
(I  went)  *  above  the  wealthy  people  of  the  distant 
Hyperboreans,  with  whom  once  upon  a  time  Perseus, 
^  the  king  and  hero,^  feasted.  There  dwell  the  Massa- 
getse,  the  mounters  upon  swift  horses,  trusting  to  their 
far-shooting  bows ;  and  I  came  round  the  divine  river 
of  the  ever-flowing  Campasus,  that  rolls  its  sacred  water 
to  the  eternal  sea.  From  thence  I  went  round  the 
islands  darkened  with  green  olive  ^  trees,  and  overspread 
with  tall-leaved  re^ds,  and  I  fancied  the  giant  people  to 
be  a  race  of  half-dogs ;  who  nourished  above  their  well- 
turned  shoulders  the  head  of  a  dog,  grisly,  with  very 
powerful  fangs  ;  and  theirs  was  the  howl,  as  it  were  of 
dogs ;  nor  did  they  know  *  the  voice  of  other  men,  ^  that 
call  things  by  their  name.^ 

I  reached  the  distant  Hyperborean  state — 
The  wealthy  race,  at  whose  high  banquet  sate 
Perseus  the  hero.     On  those  wide-stretch'd  plains 
Ride  the  MassagetaB,  giving  the  reins 

'  From  the  subsequent  ij\v9ov,  and  U  d'  USfiriVj  it  has  been  conjectured 
that  a  verb  of  similar  meaning  was  found  in  the  verse  preceding.  The 
fragment  is  supposed  to  be  part  of  a  speech  by  Apollo. 

*  To  avoid  this  strange  union  of  dva^  t^pwff — one  would  have  expected 
to  find  here — ToXgd*  (i^Kn  vore  vH  VPV)—"  the  night  came  upon  the  hero," 
and  hence  he  was  obliged  to  stop  in  his  journey,  and  glad  to  get  a  supper. 
With  the  expression  ^kh  vH  vPV — compare  ijicH  ry  xaxdv  in  Aristoph. 
Barp.  552. 

'  As  olive  trees  do  not  grow  in  cold  countries,  Jacobs  correctly  suggested 
kXaranTi,  "  fir  trees,**  in  lieu  of  IXdaifri — 

*  The  sense  evidently  requires  not  ayvw<r<rov<ri,  but  yiyvanTKovvi, 

*  Such  is  perhaps  the  best  rendering  of  dvoficiKXvrov — ^unless  it  be  said 
tiiat  the  author  wrote — ovofi  f  kXiht'  avh)v  — "  the  voice  by  which  a 
name  is  heard.*' 


To  their  fleet  coursers,  skilful  with  the  bow. 

And  then  I  came  to  the  stupendous  flow 

Of  Campasus,  who  pours  his  mighty  tide 

To  the  ocean  sea,  eternally  supplied. 

Thence  to  isles  clad  with  olives  green  and  young, 

With  many  a  tufted  bulrush  overhung. 

A  giant  race,  half-man,  half-dog,  lives  there ; 

Beneath  their  shoulders  grow  the  heads  they  wear. 

Jaws  long  and  lank  and  grisly  tusks  they  bear ; 

Much  foreign  tongues  they  learn,  and  can  indite, 

But  when.they  strive  to  speak  they  bark  outright.     C.  M, 

There  remain,  ye  garlands  of  mine,  suspended  by  the 
double-doors,  nor  shake  off.  frowardly  the  leaves,  ye 
whom  I  have  wetted  with  tears — for  watery  are  the  eyes 
of  lovers.  But  when,  as  the  door  opens,  ye  behold  him, 
drop  over  his  head  the  shower  of  mine,  so  that  his 
auburn  hair  may  better  drink  my  tears. 

Curl,  ye  sweet  flowers  ;  ye  Zephyrs,  softly  breathe, 
Nor  shake  from  Helen's  door  my  votive  wreath. 
Bedew'd  with  grief,  your  blooming  honours  keep — 
For  those,  who  love,  are  ever  known  to  weep— 
And  when  beneath  my  lovely  maid  appears. 
Bain  from  your  purple  cups  a  lover's  tears.  Bl. 

There  hang  suspended  from  the  porch,  ye  flowers, 
Which  I  have  garlanded  from  Venus'  bowers ; 
Nor  shake  the  leaves  off* ;  they  are  wet  with  tears  ; 
For  lovers'  eyes  with  showers  betray  their  fears. 
But  when  the  door  is  open'd,  and  ye  know 
Him,  whom  I  love,  then  on  his  head  below 
Drop  all  this  rain  of  mine,  so  that  his  hair 
May  better  drink  the  tear-drops  of  his  fair.         G.  B. 

lxxii.  the  same. 

I  am  not  even  two  and  twenty  years  old,  and  yet  I 
am  tired  of  living.  Ye  Loves,  why  is  this  evil  ?  Why 
do  ye  inflame  me  ?  For  should  I  suffer  aught,  what  will 
ye  do  ?    It  is  evident.  Loves,  ye  will  play,  as  before, 

thoughtless  at  dice. 

2  62 


My  years  are  not  quite  two  and  twenty, 

And  I  would  fain  go  die. 
Ye  Loves,  why  doth  it  so  content  ye 

This  crael  sport  to  ply  ? 
Think,  Loves,  if  mischief  should  beset  me, 

Would  it  not  grieve  you  then  ? 
No— by  my  faith,  you'd  straight  forget  me, 

And  to  your  dice  again.  C.  M. 


A  pleasant  drink  is  snow  water  in  summer  to  a  thirsty 
person;  and  pleasant  for  sailoirs  after  winter  to  see  a 
spring  garland ;  but  it  is  most  pleasant  when  one  cover- 
lid conceals  those  who  love,  and  Venus  is  praised  by 

Sweet  is  the  goblet  cool'd  with  winter  snows, 
To  him,  who  pants  in  summer's  scorching  heat ; 

And  sweet  to  weary  mariners  repose 

From  ocean's  tempest  in  some  green  retreat ; 

But  far  more  sweet  than  these  the  conscious  bower, 

Where  lovers  meet  at  Love's  delighted  hour.     J.  H.  M. 


With  her  eye^  has  Didym^  caught  me :  woe's  me,  I 
melt,  like  wax  by  the  fire,  on  seeing  her  beauty.  But 
if  she  were  black,  what  then  ?  Nay,  even  charcoal,  if 
we  warm  it,  shines  like  rose-buds. 

Young  Didyme  hath  ravished  me  in  my  boyhood's  flower. 
And,  alas !  I  melt  like  wax  before  her  beauty's  power. 
Say,  she  is  black — ^what  then  ?  The  coals  that  on  the  hearth 

lie  dead — 
Set  them  on  fire — ^from  black  they  soon  will  turn  to  rosy  red. 

J.  H.  M. 

^  From  the  unintelligible  rtf  OciKXtf  Ruhnken  most  ingeniously  elicited 
Tu  d^OaXiJua —  But  as  Propertius,  quoted  by  himself,  has  "  Cynthia — me 
cepit  oceUis/'  it  is  strange  he  did  not  think  upon  rf  d^OciKfuf —  Meineke 
proposes  T<f  icdWti — 



The  Muses  themselves^  beheld  thee,  Hesiod,  tending 
sheep  in  mid-day  on  old^  mountains,  and  all  of  them, 
after  plucking  with  their  hands^  a  branch  with  its  beau- 
tiful flower  of  the  holy  laurel,  handed  it  to  thee ;  and 
they  gave  thee  the  inspiring  water  of  the  fountain  of 
Helicon,  which  the  heel  of  the  winged  steed  had  previ- 
ously struck;*  with  which,  when  thou  wert  satisfied, 
thou  didst  write  in  songs  of  the  race  of  the  blessed 
(gods),*  and  of  works  of  husbandry,^  and  of  the  family 
of  the  ancient  half-gods  J 

The  Muses,  Hesiod,  on  the  mountain  steep, 

Themselves  at  noon  thy  flocks  beheld  thee  keep. 

The  bright-leaved  bay  they  pluck'd,  and  all  the  Nine 

Placed  in  thy  hand  at  once  the  branch  divine. 

Then  their  own  Helicon's  inspiring  wave, 

From  where  the  wing'd  steed  smote  the  ground,  they  gave. 

Which  deeply  quaflTd,  thy  verse  the  lineage  told 

Of  gods,  of  husbandry,  and  heroes  old.  G.  S. 

Melo  and  Satyra,  the  tall®  children  of  Antigenides, 

'  This  introduction  of  the  word  Ai/ral  here  seems  perfectly  useless. 
Moreover,  the  Muses  made  their  presents,  not  because  Hesiod  was  tend- 
ing flocks,  like  a  common  shepherd,  but  because  he  was  soothing  them 
by  his  music  in  no  common  way.  Hence,  for  Awrat  we  must  probably 
read  Ai^^— similar  to  the  line  of  Ovid — "  Pastor  arundineo  carmine 
mulcet  oves." 

'  Kpavaoic,  "  old  " — literally  "  as  old  as  the  time  of  Cranaus,"  one  of 
the  earlier  kings  of  Attica.  But  as  the  epithet  seems  scarcely  intelligible, 
as  applied  to  a  mountain,  one  would  have  preferred  here  Kprjfivolg  ovpttri 
0\  to  KgavaoiQ  o^peaiv — 

*  In  lieu  of  irtpi  the  sense  evidently  leads  to  x^pU  ^  translated,  and 
Jacobs  suggested. 

*  Jacobs  quotes  opportunely  from  Ovid — "  Dura  Medussei  quem  pree- 
petis  ungula  rupit." 

^  This  alludes  to  the  Theogonia. 

*  This  refers  to  the*Epya  Kal  *H/ilpai. 

'  It  appeai^s  from  Maxim.  Tyr.,  quoted  by  Jacobs,  that  a  portion  of  the 
lost  work  called  "H  olai  was  devoted  to  Heroes  as  well  as  Heroines. 

*  So  Reiske  and  Jacobs  understand  ravvriXiKee,    But  a  Greek  word 


and  the  easy-tempered^  workers  for  the  Muses,  (have 
offered  up)  ^  to  the  Pimpleian  Muses,  Melo  her  quick- 
lipped^  pipe,  and  this  pipe-case  made  of  box-wood,  and 
Satyra,  given  to  loving,  her  reed,  the  fellow*reveller  with 
wine-bibbers  in  the  evening,  after  she  had  joined  it*  with 
wax,  a  pleasant  piper,  ui  company  with  which,  after 
having  all  the  night  through  been  making  a  noise  at  the 
outer  doors,  she  beheld  the  morning  dawn. 

Melo  and  Satyra  to  the  Muses  these — 

The  tuneful  race  of  Antigenides, 

To  the  Pimpleian  Muses,  whom  of  late 

Duteous  they  served,  these  offerings  dedicate. 

Melo  this  flute,  whose  notes  in  silver  chase 

Her  swift  lips  foUow'd,  and  this  box-wood  case, 

And  amorous  Satyra,  this  vocal  reed. 

Oft  by  her  tuneful  breath,  with  wanton  heed, 

Waken'd  to  song,  while  Comus'  revellers  round 

Clapp'd  loud  their  hands,  responsive  to  the  sound, 

From  festive  eve,  until  the  first  faint  ray 

Broke  through  the  portals  of  rejoicing  day.       J.  H.  M. 


Oh  thou,  who  takest  thy  course  around  Dindyma  and 
the  peaks  of  Phrygia,  burning  with  fire,*  mayest  thou,  O 
mother  most  venerable,  cause  to  grow  tall®  the  little 

could  not  be  so  compounded :  and  the  same  objection  lies  against  wawrfXi- 
K€s,  suggested  by  Dorville.  Perhaps  the  poet  wrote  w-oi/y  ffXuccc, "  equals 
in  labour —  " 

*  As  it  is  impossible  to  understand  ivkoXoi  here,  one  would  prefer 
tvKXeec — "  renowned." 

*  The  verb  requisite  for  the  sense  is  wanting  in  the  Greek.  This  ellipse 
is  not  uncommon  in  such  inscriptions ;  as  in  Uie  line  of  Virgil — **  ^neas 
hflBc  de  Danais  victoribus  anna.** 

'  Jacobs  explains  raxt;x«*^«»C  by  "  qui  celeribus  labiis  tibias  percur- 
nmt.**  He  should  have  said  "  qui  celeribus  tibiis  labia  percurrunt  ** — ^if 
applied  to  the  rapid  morement  of  the  pipe  across  the  lips.  Perhaps  the 
poet  wrote  ppaxvx^iXiie — "  the  short-lipped — ** 

*  Meineke  would  read  Zev^afikvfj  for  rtvXafikvfi — 

*  According  to  Strabo,  quoted  by  Jacobs,  there  were  many  subterranean 
fires  in  Phrygia. 

*  Meineke  has  happily  suggested  adpvvaiQ — which  is  well  opposed  to 
fiiKpijv :  and  he  refers  to  Bekker,  Anecdot.  GrsBc.  p.  345,  *A$pvvai'  aSpbv 
Kai  fisyav  Trotfjaai,  So^oicX^c. 


Aristodic^,  the  daughter  of  Seilen^,  to  Hymen  and  to  a 
marriage,  the  limits  of  maidenhood ;  for  which  I  have 
strewn  many  things  before  thy  fane,  and  near  thy  altars 
my  virgin  hair  here  and  there. 

O  holy  Mother,  on  the  peak 
Of  Dindyma,  and  on  those  summits  bleak 

That  frown  on  Phrygians  scorched  plain, 
Holding  thy  throne,  with  fav'ring  aspect  deign 

To  smile  on  Aristodice, 

Seilene's  virgin  child,  that  she 
May  grow  in  beauty,  and  her  charms  improve 
To  fulness,  and  invite  connubial  love. 
For  this  thy  porch  she  seeks  with  tributes  rare, 
And  o'er  thine  altars  strews  her  votive  hair.     J.  H.  M. 


O  ye  that  pass  this  road,  whether  ye  are  going  to  the 
country  from  town,  or  from  the  country  to  the  Acropolis, 
we  two  deities  (are)  the  guardians  of  boundaries ;  one 
of  whom  is  Hermes,  such  as  you  see  me ;  the  other, 
,  Hercules.  Both  listen  kindly  to  mortals ;  but  if  you 
place  here  pears,  (either)  preserved*  or  unripe,  he  gob- 
bles them  up.  And  in  like  manner  he  makes  ready  his 
^  chops  for^  grape  bunches,  whether  they  are  just  fit 
to  eat,  or  unripe  of  no  value.  I  dislike  a  partnership, 
nor  am.  I  pleased  at  it.  But  let  a  person,  who  brings 
any  thing  for  both,  put  it  down,  not  in  common  for  the 
two,  and  say — Take  this,  Hercules ;  and  you,  Hermes, 
this — and  he  will  dissolve'  the  quarrel  between  both. 

Wayfarers,  who  along  this  road  your  journey  take. 
Whether  amidst  the  fields  a  holyday  to  make, 

*  By  simply  reading  &\\*  diroOktrrovg  in  lieu  of  aXKd  vroff  airo^s^  we 
shall  obviate  the  necessity  of  supposing,  with  Casaubon  and  Meineke,  the 
existence  of  a  lacuna.  Before  aTroQktTTovQ  is  to  be  supplied  a'lKt  from  the 
second  clause.  On  airoBitrTovQ^  or,  as  it  would  be  written  in  prose  Greek, 
diroOkrovQ^  see  Plato  Epistol.  13. 

* — ^  As  eifrpkirtKtv  wants  its  case,  it  is  easy  to  elicit,  as  translated,  kui 
ykvvv  from  vai  ftav,  and  to  read  tig  in  lieu  of  rwc — where  the  article  is 

•  The  sense  and  syntax  require,  not  Xwot,  but  Xvan — 


Or  townward  bending,  to  the  famed  Acropolis, 

We  rival  gods,  who  guard  the  city's  boundaries, 

I,  who  am  Hermes  hight,  and  th'  other  Hercules, 

Bid  weary  mortals  peace,  good-will,  and  lasting  bliss. 

But  for  ourselves,  alas !  nor  peace  nor  joy  have  we — 

At  least  I  say  so — I,  unlucky  Mercury. 

If  any  swain  brings  pears  or  apples  to  our  shrine. 

E'en  though  unripe  they  be,  not  one  of  them  is  mine. 

That  glutton  bolts  them  all.  The  same  too  vnth  our  grapes ; 

Not  one,  or  sweet  or  sour,  his  greedy  maw  escapes. 

Community  of  goods  I  therefore  can't  abide, 

Let  him,  who  means  me  well,  my  portion  set  aside ; 

And  say — "  This,  Hermes,  is  for  thee ;  that  for  thy  friend 

Alcides."     Thus,  at  least,  our  strife  may  have  an  end. 

J.  H.  M. 
Ye  lowly  dwellings,  and  holy  hill  of  the  Nymphs, 
and  rills  under  the  rock,  and  pme,  a  neighbour  of  the 
water,  and  thou,  Hermes,  son  of  Maia,  with  four  angular 
points,^  the  saviour  of  fruits,^  and  Pan,  who  keepest  the 
rock,  pastured  by  goats,  kindly  receive  these  slight  cakes, 
and  this  bowl  full  of  wine,  the  gift  of  Neoptolemus,  the 
son  of  ^acides  (Achilles). 

Ye  lowly  huts,  thou  sacred  hill — 

Heart  of  the  Nymphs,  pure,  gushing  rill — 

That  underneath  the  cold  stone*  flowest ; 

Pine,  that  those  clear  streams  o'ergrowest — 

Thou,  son  of  Maia,  Mercury, 

Squared  in  cunning  statuary— 

And  thou,  O  Pan,  whose  wandering  flocks 

Frolic  o'er  the  craggy  rocks — 

Pleased  the  rustic  goblet  take, 

Fill'd  with  wine  and  th'  oaten  cake. 

Offer'd  to  your  deities 

By  a  true  JEacides.  J.  H.  M. 

*  This  is  perhaps  the  best  way  of  translating  rirpdyXiaxiv—  For  the 
pedestal,  on  which  the  figure  of  Hermes  stood,  had  four  sides,  and 
every  two  sides  formed  an  angle,  which  was  the  shape  of  the  point  of  the 
harpoon,  called  in  Greek  yXwxtff. 

*  As  Hermes  was  in  Greece,  like  Priapus  in  Italy,  the  god  of  the  gardens^ 
fAtiXoaadf  has  been  so  translated,  from  fifjXov,  not  /ifiXa,  and  <ri$oc. 


Hear,  Q  ye  folds,  and  thou,  the  sacred  hill 
Of  the  fair  Nymphs,  and  every  trickling  rill 
Beneath  the>rocks;  and  thou,  close-bordering  pine — 
Thou,  too,  4uaint  image  of  a  form  divine, 
Four-corner'd  Hermes,  guardian  of  the  fold. 
And  Pan,  by  whom  each  goat-fed  peak  we  hold — 
Deign  to  accept  these  cakes,  this  cup  of  wine. 
From  Pyrrhus,  heir  of  great  Achilles'  line.         E.  S. 

They  call  me  the  little  (one) ;  and  that  I  do  not  make  a 
good  voyage  without  fear,  equal  to  (large)  vessels  that  pass 
over  the  sea.  I  do  not  deny  it.  The  skiff  is  a  little  thing. 
But  to  the  sea  every  thing  is  on  an  equality.  The  judg- 
ment is  not  about  size,  but  fortune.  To  another  let  there 
be  more  for  the  rudder  (to  do).  There  is  one  boldness 
to  one  vessel,  and  another  to  another.  But  may  I  be 
saved  by  the  gods. 

They  say  that  I  am  small  and  frail, 

Ajid  cannot  live  in  stormy  seas ; 
It  may  be  so ;  yet  every  sail 

Makes  shipwreck  in  the  swelling  breeze. 
Not  strength  nor  size  can  then  hold  fast ; 

But  Fortune's  favour.  Heaven's  decree : 
Let  others  trust  in  oar  and  mast ; 

But  may  the  gods  take  care  of  me.         C.  M. 

Do  not  go  about,  man,  dragging  on  a  wandering  life, 
^  tost  from  one  land  to  another.*  Do  not  go  about.  An 
empty  hovel*  'is  wont  to  give  something  to  cover  you,' 
*  which  a  little  fire  lighted  up  may  warm,*  even  if  the 
puff-cake  of  maize  be  slight,  and  not  one  of  fine  meal, 

* — *  On  this  expression  see  Blomfield  on  Prometh.  702. 

«  KaXifi  is  literally  "  a  bird-nest." 

' — '  The  Greek  is  <rt  9rep«rrli(/a(ro,  which,  as  being  quite  unintelligible, 
Meineke  would  alter  into  iripio-rUatro :  by  the  aid  of  which  has  been 
elicited  tr*  €7rop«  trTk^at  ri —  as  translated. 

4 — 4  gQ  Sophocles  says  in  Philoctet.  298,  OiKovfdvri — tniyri  wpbg  ukra 
UdvT*  IfCTropi^ec.  ' 


pounded  in  a  hollow  stone  by  the  hand ;  and  if  there  be 
for  herbs,  penny-royal,  or  thyme,  and  wretched  groats  to 
serve  as  a  sweet-mixed  relish. 


Cling  to  thy  home.     If  there  the  meanest  shed 
Yield  thee  a  hearth  and  shelter  for  thy  head ; 
And  some  poor  plot,  with  vegetables  stored, 
Be  all  that  Heaven  allots  thee  for  a  board — 
Unsavoury  bread,  and  herbs  that  scatter'd  grow 
Wild  on  the  river  brink  or  mountain-brow — 
Yet  e'en  this  cheerless  dwelling  shall  provide 
More  heart's  repose  than  all  the  world  beside. 


Not  only  sitting  upon  lofty  trees  do  I  know  how  to 
sing,  warmed  with  the  great  heat  of  summer,  an  unpaid 
minstrel  to  wayfaring  men,  and  sipping  the  vapour  of 
dew,  4hat  is  like  woman's  milk.^  But  even  upon  the 
spear  of  Athen^  with  her  beautiful  helmet  will  you  see 
me,  the  Tettix,  seated.  For  as  much  as  we  are  loved  by 
the  Muses,  by  so  much  is  Athen^  by  us.  For  the  virgin 
^has  established  a  prize  (for  melody).* 

Not  only  on  the  tree-top  do  I  sing. 

When  summer  heat  expands  my  vocal  wing. 

Sipping  the  dewy  morning's  virgin  tear, 

Sweet  unbought  bard,  to  weary  travellers  dear ; 

But  now  you  may  behold  me  resting  here. 

E'en  on  the  point  of  armed  Minerva's  spear. 

Who  love  the  Muses,  thus  each  other  suit ; 

Theirs  is  my  voice ;  and  theirs  her  maiden  flute.  J.  H.  M. 

The  shipwrecked  Antheus,  after  escaping  from  thq 
threats  of  the  blue  Triton,  did  not  escape  a  terrible  wolf 

' — *  Such  is  the  meaning  of  OijiKvg  ikpffri,  as  shown  by  Hesiod's  Shield 
of  Hercules,  y.  3^5,  Tsrriy',  if  rt  Trotric  nai  fipwme  9ii\v£  Icpff^-— quoted 
by  Jacobs. 

*— *  So  Brunck  understands  aifXoOtrti,  where  Meineke  would  read- 


of  Phthia.  For  he  perished  near  the  stream  of  the  Peneus. 
Alas !  unhappy  one,  who  found  the  Nymphs  less  to  be 
trusted  than  the  Nereids. 

Antheus,  escaped  the  terrors  of  the  flood, 

A  savage  wolf  devour'd  in  Phthia's  wood : 

m-fated  mariner,  condemn'd  to  find 

Naiads  more  curst  than  are  the  Nereids  kind.   J.  H.  M. 


Ye  shepherds,  who  tend  goats  and  fine-fleeced  sheep, 
while  walking  over  this  back-bone  of  a  mountain,  pay, 
(I  pray,)  by  the  earth,  to  Cleitagoras  a  slight  but  agree- 
able tribute,  for  the  sake  of  Proserpine  under  ground. 
Let  the  sheep  bleat  for  me ;  and  let  a  shepherd  on  the 
unpolished  rock,  pipe  gently  to  them  while  feeding; 
and  let  a  person  of  the  place  in  earliest  spring  cut  down 
flowers  in  the  meadow,  and  adorn  my  tomb  with  a  gar- 
land; and  let  him  bedew  it  thrice  ^  with  milk  from  an 
ewe  that  has  fine  lambs,  jyy  holding  her  udder  full  of 
milk  (over  it),  moistening  even  the  base  of  my  tomb. 
There  are  favours  paid  to  the  dead,  and  there  are  returns 
made  even  by  the  dead. 


List,  all  ye  swains,  whose  thirsty  fiocks 
In  silence  wander  o'er  these  rocks. 
And  oh  !  let  my  sad  spirit  share 
Your  constant  love,  your  tender  care. 
In  parching  summer's  fervid  heat 
May  your  young  lambs  a  requiem  bleat ; 
Whilst  on  the  rock  the  shepherd  swain 
In  mournful  murmurs  swells  his  strain. 
To  my  lone  shade  in  early  spring, 
Ye  pilgrims,  grateful  offerings  bring  ; 
And  o'er  my  solitary  grave 
With  reverence  pour  the  milky  wave. 
Then  rifle  every  floweret's  bloom 
To  deck  the  turf  that  forms  my  tomb. 

*  The  sense,  or  rather  the  custom,  of  ancient  times  requires  rptc  for  r»c, 
as  shown  by  Soph.  (Ed.  C.  476,  rpiaade  yi  Trijyaf  rbv  reXtvraXov  d'  8Xoy. 


For  think  not,  that,  when  life  is  fled, 
No  hopes  or  fears  can  reach  the  dead  ; 
E'en  then  their  shades  your  care  approve, 
And  own  with  gratitude  your  love. 

Thou  bee  with  a  varying  movement/  who  showest 
forth  the  spring  blooming  with  delight,  of  a  brown 
colour,^  (and)  mad  (with  love)  for  the  flowers  in  season, 
(and)  on  the  wing  to  (thy)  sweet  breathing-place,  lay 
on  thy  work,  until  thy  cell  bound  by  wax  is  full. 

Many-coloured  sunshine-loving,  spring-betokening  bee. 
Yellow  bee,  so  mad  for  love  of  early-blooming  flowers, 

Till  thy  waxen  cell  be  full,  fair  fall  thy  work  and  thee. 
Buzzing  round  the    sweetly   smelHng   garden   plots  and 
bowers.  A. 

Thou  nimble  yeUow  bee,  that  bring'st  the  softly  blooming 

Thee  the  love  of  primy  flowers  is  ever  maddening  ; 
Flutt'ring  o'er  sweetly  breathing  fields,  increase  thy  honied 

Until  the  wax-compacted  cell  at  length^can  hold  no  more. 


No  longer  rolling  myself  'over  the  level  part*  of  a 
bough  with  long  leaves  shall  I  delight  myself,  by  send- 
ing *  a  sound  from  my  quick-moving  wings  ;*  for  I  have 
fallen  into  the  savage  *  hand  of  a  boy,  who  seize.d  me 
secretly,  as  I  was  sitting  under*  the  green  leaves. 

^  Such  is  perhaps  the  best  translation  of  aioXoc,  applied  to  a  bee. 

*  Such  is  the  colour  of  the  working  bee.  The  word  ^ovObe  is  frequently 
translated  "  yellow  "  incorrectly. 

' — '  As  the  MSS.  Vat  and  Planud.  offer  respectively  tnr*  Bpircuca  and 
vTcb  TrXaica,  it  is  easy  to  elicit,  as  translated,  vorip  vXdica — for  the  Tettix 
did  not  sit  under,  but  above  the  bough. 

4 — ^4  From  these  words  it  is  evident  that  the  Tettix  is  speaking.  For 
its  shrill  sound  proceeds,  as  in  the  case  of  the  cricket,  from  its  striking  its 
wings  quickly  together. 

^  In  doaiaVf  which  has  puzzled  both  Jacobs  and  Meineke,  evidently 
lies  hid  aypiav — 

*  The  sense  requires,  as  translated,  vir^  for  iiri— 


I  shall  never  sing  my  pleasant  ditty  now, 
Folded  round  by  long  leaves  on  the  bough, 

Under  my  shrilly-chirping  wing  ; 
For  a  child's  hand  seized  me  in  a  luckless  hour, 
Sitting  on  the  petals  of  a  flower, 

Looking  for  no  such  evil  thing.  A. 


We,  *  to  whom  there  was  one  blood,^  were  two  old 
women  of  the  same  age,  Anaxo  and  Cleino,  twin  chil- 
dren of  Epicrates.  Cleino  was  the  priestess  of  the 
Graces;  Anaxo  during  life  a  handmaid  of  Demeter. 
We  wanted  nine  suns  (days)  of  being  eighty  years  old 
to  arrive  at  this  fate.  But  of  years  there  is  no  grudging 
to  those,  ^to  whom  they  were  holy.^  We  loved  our 
husbands  and  children.  But  we  old,  first  reached 
Hades,  kind  to  us. 

Two  aged  matrons,  daughters  of  one  sire, 

Lie  in  one  tomb,  twin-buried  and  twin-bom  ; 
Clino,  the  priestess  of  the  Graces'  choir  ; 

Anaxo,  unto  Ceres'  service  sworn. 
Nine  suns  were  wanting  to  our  eightieth  year ; 

We  died  together  ;  who  would  covet  more  ? 
We  held  our  husbands  and  our  children  dear,     s 

Nor  death  unkind,  to  which  we  sped  before.       C.  M. 


The  hopes  of  men  are  volatile  deities.  For  otherwise 
Hades,  the  melody  destroyer,^  would  not  have  thus  con- 
cealed Lesbus  (from  sight) ;  who  formerly  ran  even  with 

1 — 1  From  aiv6fiifioi  in  MS.  Vat.,  which  has  hitherto  baffled  the  critics, 
it  is  easy  to  elicit  alv  alft   tv — as  translated — of  which  the  gl.  was  at 

B/MttflOi — 

' — *  Here  too  it  is  easy  to  elicit  ale  h<fi  ijv  from  hooirj  in  MS.  Vat. 
Bernard  was  near  the  mark,  as  regards  the  letters,  in  reading  ala  oaiti, 

'  As  fJtkXoQ  is  both  **  a  melody  **  and  "  a  limb,**  XvtrifiiKrjg  will  mean 
either  **  melody  destroyer,"  or  "  limb  loosener.**  The  former  is  the 
better  epithet  for  the  grave,  in  the  case  of  a  minstrel ;  the  latter,  in  the 
case  of  a  prize-fighter. 


a  king,  and  with  chieftains.^  Farewell,  ye  deities,  the 
lightest  of  immortals;  and  lie  (ther^)  voiceless  and  un- 
heard, ye  flutes,  ^  who  possess  a  mouth,*  since  Acheron 
knows  not  either  songs  or  dances. 

Man's  hopes  are  spirits  with  fast  fleeting  wings. 

See  where  in  death  our  hopeful  Xiesbus  lies. 
Lesbus  is  dead,  the  favourite  of  kings. 

Farewell,  light  hopes,  ye  swiftest  deities. 
On  his  cold  tomb  we  carve  a  voiceless  flute  ; 
For  Pluto  hears  not,  and  the  grave  is  mute.       C.  M. 


I  mourn  for  Diotimus,  who  sits  upon  a  rock,  telling 
to  the  children  of  the  Gargareans  Beta  and  Alpha. 

I  mourn  for  Diotimus,  who  sits  among  the  rocks. 
Hammering  all  day  a,  b,  c,  on  Grargara's  infant  blocks. 

J.  H.  M. 

This,  Artemis,  near  three  roads  has  Agelocheia  put  up, 
the  daughter  of  Damaretas,  while  still  remaining  a  vir- 
gin in  her  father's  house ;  for  she  (the  goddess)  appeared 
to  her,  like  a  flame  of  flre,  near  the  thread  of  the  distaff. 

This  statue  at  the  meeting  of  three  ways 
A  maiden,  still  beneath  her  father's  roof, 

Agelocheia,  did  to  Dian  raise  ; 

Who,  while  her  busy  fingers  plied  the  woof, 

Appear'd  before  her  in  a  sudden  blaze.  C.  M. 

XCI.    THE  SAMfe. 
Perish  that  day,  and  the  destructive  moonless  dark- 

^  Although  Jacobs  justly  objected  to  Ipturwv,  he  did  not  see  that  the 
poet  wrote  dpitrrkiav — For  he  thought,as  Horace  did,"  Principibus  placuisse 
yiris  non  ultima  laus  est."  On  the  corruption  of  dpitrrihc  see  Porson 
at  Eurip.  Med.  5. 

' — ^  In  lieu  of  oi  a  kvkirovai,  which  is  perfectly  unintelligible,  the  train 
of  thought  leads  to  dt  arSfi  Ixovfft — For  thus  the  flutes,  which  had  still  a 
mouth,  are  properly  said  to  be  voiceless  after  the  death  of  Lesbus,  who 
used  to  play  upon  them. 


ness,  and  the  dreadful  roar  of  the  sea  lashed  by  the 
winds,  which  caused  the  ship  to  roll  down,^  on  which 
Abderion^  of  a  sweet  disposition,  prayed  to  the  gods,  for 
much  that  was  not  to  be  accomplished.  For  the  vessel 
was  utterly  broken  up,  and  he  was  carried  by  a  wave 
to  the  rugged  Seriphus,  where  meeting  with  a  funeral 
at  the  hands  of  pitying  strangers,  he  reached  his  country, 
Abdera,  wrapped  up  in  a  jar  of  brass. 

Perish  the  hour — that  dark  and  starless  hour- 
Perish  the  roaring  main's  tempestuous  power — 
That  whelm'd  the  ship,  where  loved  Abdera's  son 
Pray'd  to  unheeding  heaven,  and  was  undone. 
Yes,  all  were  wreck'd  ;  and  by  the  stormy  wave 
To  rough  Seriphus  borne,  he  found  a  grave — 
Found  from  kind  stranger  hands  funereal  fires. 
Yet  reach'd,  inurn'd,  the  country  of  his  sires.      F.  H. 


They  say  that  by  the  road  on  the  right  hand  of  the 
funeral  pyre  Hermes  leads  the  good  to  Rhadamanthus ; 
by  which  too  Aristonoiis,  the  not-unwept  son  of  Chseres- 
tratus,  descended  to  the  house  of  Hades,  the  leader  of 

'Tis  by  yon  road,  which  from  the  funeral  pyre 

Slopes  to  the  right,  that  Hermes,  it  is  said, 
Leads  to  the  seat  of  Rhadamanthus  dire, 

The  willing  spirits  of  the  virtuous  dead. 
That  right-hand  path  thy  pensive  ghost  pursued,  • 

Loved  Aristonoiis,  when  it  left  behind 
Those  not  unmindful  of  the  great  and  good. 

Eternal  joys  among  the  blest  to  find.         J.  H.  M. 

*  In  lieu  of  arore,  the  sense  requires  Kard — as  translated. 



*Not  the  rough  stony ^  conceals  those*  bones^  nor  the 
rock  *that  receives  the  azure  writing  ;*  but  some  of  them 
does  the  Icarian  wave  break  around  the  pebbly  beach  of 
the  long  and  lofty  Dracanum.*  And  I,  the  empty  earthy 
am  heaped  up  amongst  the  thirsty  plants  of  the  Dryopes 
*in  the  place  of  much-caring  hospitality.®  * 

Not  rugged  Trachis  hides  these  whitening  bones, 

Nor  that  black  isle,  whose  name  its  colour  shows, 
But  the  wild  beach,  o'er  which,  with  ceaseless  moans, 

The  vex'd  Icarian  wave  eternal  flows, 
Of  Drepanus,  ill-famed  promontory ; 

And  there,  instead  of  hospitable  rites. 
The  long  grass  sweeping  tells  his  fate's  sad  story 

To  rude  tribes  gather'd  from  the  neighbouring  heights. 

J.  H.  M. 


Thou  didst  not  endure,  most  brave  Leonidas,  to  come 
back  to  the  Eurotas,  for,  pressed^  by  a  difficult  warfare ; 

^ — ^  Such  is  the  literal  yersion  of  this  corrupt  and  consequently  unin- 
telligible epigram. 

'  From  the  reading  of  the  MS.  Ovx  ^  Tprixbc  as  XiOatoc,  Toup  elicited 
O^  Tprixk  \i9iaioe,  adopted  by  Brunck  and  Jacobs.  But  as  no  notice 
is  thus  taken  of  o  and  <re,  Meineke  would  read  O^x  ^  ^P»7X^C  iKaiog — 
which  he  renders, "  Not  the  rough  wild  olive — "  But  why  mention  should 
be  made  of  a  wild  olive,  as  if  that  tree  were  usually  employed  to  cover 
the  dead,  he  has  failed  to  explain. 

^  In  lieu  of  the  useless  Kiiva,  Toup  suggested  SeiXdf  Jacobs  Xcvcd — 

* — *  The  words  Otfd'  rf  Kvaveov  ypdfjifia  Xapovaa  irirpii,  on  which  the 
commentators  have  said  nothing,  are  left  for  the  reader  to  understand,  if 
he  can.  In  ypdfifAa  perhaps  lies  hid  Xatr/xa — "  sea  swell,"  or  X9*^V^^ — 
"  colour.** 

^  On  ApoKavov,  the  Doric  name  for  Apkiravov,  see  Berkelius  in  Steph. 
Byz.  ApaKavoy. 

• — *  Jacobs,  unable  to  understand  the  words  between  the  numerals, 
proposes  to  read,  Xeptfi  S*  lyw  Seviric  iroXvinjSioc  in  lieu  of  *Avri  ^  iyw 
tevirii  noKvKtiSkog — conceiving  that  iBitvirjc  alludes  to  either  the  wife  or 
mother  of  the  defunct  Meineke  says  he  has  shown  on  Euphorion  Frag, 
p.  182,  that  Ktvirjc  is  perfectly  correct ;  but  instead  of  iroXvKridkog,  he 
would  read  with  Salmasius  iroXvfiridkoi :  from  which,  however,  nothing 
seems  to  be  gained. 

'  In  lieu  of  <r7ripx6fuvoCt  which  Jacobs  truly  says  is  rather  obscure, 
one  would  have  expected  rovx^fiivoCf  as  translated. 


but  at  Thermopylae,  warding  off  the  Persian  nation,*  thou 
wast  defeated,  through  reverencing  the  institutions  of 
thy  fathers. 

Most  brave  Leonidas,  thou  would'st  not  bear, 

After  defeat,  to  Sparta  to  repair ; 

But  at  ThermopylsB  didst  nobly  choose 

Still  to  maintain  your  country's  ancient  use.         C.  M. 


These  two  children  of  Cleio,  Aristodic^  and  Ameino, 
bom  in  Crete,  (are  brought)  by  their  mother,  thy  tem- 
ple-sweeper, O  venerable  Artemis,  at  four  years  old ;  ^ 
look  kindly,*  queen,  upon  the  children  of  this  (woman), 
and  make  them  two  temple-sweepers  in  the  place  of  one 

Thy  handmaid  Cleio,  Artemis  divine, 

Her  infant  daughters  of